


washed his youth away (it should've been me)

by jpgghowell



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Self-Harm, Vomiting, also i feel as if i should specify: explicit scenes of vomiting, dldr!, this is a recovery fic so if that isn't your jam don't read, unconventional in the sense that the whole relationship aspect is on the back burner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-15 11:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16062596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jpgghowell/pseuds/jpgghowell
Summary: 'and in that moment, dan really wished he hadn't lived through it.'when daniel howell is found on the edge of town after being missing for two years, his life is flipped over once again as he deals with recovery.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I want to start off by saying that this fic is very angst heavy. I know I’m taking a risk in posting this, as it’s clear that fics like this can be frowned upon, but this is my account and my writing. It’s basically angst for the sake of angst, so if you’re not into that, don’t read it! Adding onto that, don’t be rude because you personally don’t like super angsty fics. DLDR! Also, please make sure to read all of the triggers and take all of them seriously. This is a very heavy fic and I don’t want anyone getting uncomfortable or hurt. There is an explicit kidnapping scene in the prologue, so please be careful. I have all of the tags in the tags, so I won’t be posting MANY warnings at the beginning of each chapter to avoid spoilers. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to message me on my tumblr at jpgghowell. Moving on, this fic has been sitting in my docs for about a year and a half now. It was originally supposed to be for the PBB 2017, but things popped up and I never finished it. I spent a lot of time on this, though, and it kills me to see it just sitting there. There’s still some work that needs to be done, but I hope everyone enjoys this for what it is! (:
> 
> tite is from monsoon by hippo campus

“Phil, c’mon! Dan _always_ wins, you shouldn’t be so surprised.”

“Shove off,” Phil huffed, tossing his controller onto the floor. He threw himself back onto his queen-sized bed, sighing in frustration as the twins laughed at him. 

Dan grinned down at his mousy haired friend before settling down right beside him, nudging his arm softly. “Hey, no need to be so bloody pouty. ‘S just Mario Kart,” Dan reasoned, his voice gentle. It always was with Phil. 

Dakota rolled his eyes and faked a gag from his seat across the room. He threw his head back against the leather headrest on the computer chair he was perched in, and began pushing his foot off of the floor to spin himself. “You really don’t need to nurse his feelings every single time he loses, _Daniel_. He ought to be used to it by now, really.”

“Oi!” Phil barked, grabbing a pillow from behind him and chucking it at his best friend. He grinned at the thump that echoed through the room moments later.

“I’d offer a rematch, but Kota and I have really got to be going. Mum’ll be so pissed if we’re late again,” Dan sighed, but made no effort to move. 

“That’s fine, we’ve always got tomorrow,” Phil replied with a smile.

Dan grimaced, looking anxiously between his brother and his friend. “Actually, I can’t. Failed my maths test Friday and have to stay after for revision,” he said quietly. He curled his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on it nervously. Dan’s struggles with his schooling was a bit of a sore subject, considering Dakota and Phil (and literally everyone else in Dan’s year, it seemed) were all ahead of him. It made Dan quite uneasy when it was discussed, but his brother and friend had never looked down on him for it. At least, not intentionally. 

Dakota frowned at his twin, his eyebrows creasing in confusion. “You studied so hard for that one, though. We were up all night revising.” 

Dan shrugged half-heartedly in reply, rolling over to face Phil. His looks of sympathy were always easier to handle than Dakota’s. “It’s fine, I guess. Can’t say I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Danny,” Phil whispered dejectedly, pouting at the younger boy. He reached a hand up to tap Dan on the nose- a comforting action they’d exchanged for ages- before wrapping his arm around the brunette and pulling him against his chest. Dan settled against him easily, as it wasn’t really odd for the two to be hanging off of each other.

“Guys, really, I’m okay. I mean, yeah, it kind of really fucking sucks. But at least she’s letting me retake it if I go in,” Dan mumbled against Phil’s chest. He glanced up over Phil’s shoulder, catching Dakota’s quite obviously disappointed expression, which was trained on the ground. Dan frowned.

“Kota, it’s fine,” he assured, raising his eyebrows as his brother looked up. 

“It’s not, though. Dan, you’ve worked so hard this year-” Dakota started, but Phil was quick to cut his best friend off.

“Dakota, c’mon, just leave it. We can talk about this some other time, yeah? You lot really need to get going, I don’t want another joint lecture from our mums about time managment,” Phil reasoned. He gave Dan’s arm a pat, silently telling the younger to get up.

Dakota sighed, but nodded nonetheless. “Yeah, suppose you’re right,” he muttered, pushing himself to his feet. He grabbed his and Dan’s overnight bag that was packed and sat up against the wall, slinging it over his shoulder. “C’mon, Dan. You and Phil can cuddle literally any other time.”

Dan wiggled out of Phil’s loose hold while blushing at his brother’s words. “Shut up,” he whined.

“Shut up,” Dakota mocked, smiling smugly at his flustered twin.

“Y’know,” Phil began, pulling both himself and Dan to their feet, “most of the time it’s quite easy to ignore the four month age gap, but sometimes I can’t help but gloat over it.”

“Fuck off,” the twins replied in unison. Dan and Dakota grinned at Phil as he shuddered, glaring at his two friends. 

“Stop, that’s so _creepy!”_ Phil complained. He shoved Dan towards Dakota, huffing as the they giggled in reply. 

“You love it, truly,” Dakota chuckled, opening his arms up for a goodbye hug. 

Phil shook his head firmly, backing away from the pair. “No, I don’t think either of you deserve a hug after that. Get out of my house, peasants.”

Dan rolled his almond colored eyes, smiling fondly at the exchange. “Just give him a hug, Phil. He won’t leave until you do. And I probably won’t either, at that.”

The older boy sighed, his shoulders slouching in defeat. “Fine, but only because I want you out of my house.”

“Sure you do, mate,” Dakota replied, stepping forward into Phil’s arms and squeezing him tightly. He made sure to give Phil a firm slap on the back before retreating, flashing his dimples as the other boy winced at the action. 

“Why do I put up with you,” Phil grumbled, moving to hug Dan. He wrapped his gangly arms around the shorter boy, making sure to nuzzle his neck a bit in reply to his giggle. 

“Stop being so dramatic, you spoon,” Dan said fondly, opting to rub Phil’s back rather than abuse it. He smiled as Phil sighed in exasperation, stepping back from the older’s embrace. 

“Your single dimple is much cuter than Kota’s two,” Phil said surely. His thumb ran over the imperfection on Dan’s face before he pushed him back gently towards his brother. “But we have plenty of days to discuss that. You ducklings better be hurrying along, now.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever mum,” Dakota huffed, grabbing Dan’s arm and dragging him towards the exit. They really were dangerously close to being late, and if they kept the banter up for much longer it was almost guaranteed that they’d be in some sort of trouble for it in the future.

Dan shot a small smile back at Phil, waving goodbye with his free arm. “See you at school?”

“Of course. And you still owe me a rematch, even if you can’t come over tomorrow,” Phil replied, returning the grin. 

“Wouldn’t miss is for the world.”

\---

By the time Dan left his tutoring session at half four the next day, the sun was already on it’s way down. That was something in particular that Dan hated about mid-November in England, and he sent a silent curse to his maths teacher for assigning his revision this late in the quarter. Walking alone was already something that Dan didn’t fancy very much, let alone doing so at dusk. 

The park he typically walked through with Dakota and Phil was unusually quiet for a Monday afternoon, as well. Dan supposed it _was_ a bit chilly out, but a small part of him missed the comfort of the familiar children who usually stumbled about the park after school. They made the area feel a bit more secure, what with their looming parents and older siblings keeping watch of their every movement.

Dan sighed.

The grass was damp under his torn up converse as he padded along, his gaze wandering around the barren playground and green space. The atmosphere was entirely too eerie without Dakota and Phil’s constant banter, and the odd silence was causing Dan to grow uneasy. For Dan’s entire fifteen years of life, Dakota had always been by his side. He was very dependent on his twin, even in silly situations such as this. 

In the back of his mind, Dan knew he was being irrational and _stupid_ , but he’d never taken this walk by himself. It wasn’t even all too long of a walk, but Dan was an anxious mess who constantly thought up the worst situations-

“Excuse me!” a familiar male voice called.

Dan’s head whipped around, his heart beating erratically in his chest. A small amount of relief flooded through his chest when he saw who was speaking, but not enough to stop his hands from shaking. 

Standing a good few feet away from Dan was a man in his mid twenties who never failed to appear at the park after school. At first, Dan, Dakota, and Phil had thought it was a bit odd, but the man had never really caused any trouble. In fact, he was incredibly nice to the three boys whenever they happened to actually cross paths, even going as far as striking up regular conversation with the group. 

Dan gave the man a hesitant smile, lifting up a hand in greeting. “Hello,” he said quietly.

The man returned Dan’s smile, although his was significantly more enthusiastic. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you,” he replied, voice smooth yet almost… desperate?

(Probably not. Maybe Dan was just going mental.)

“Um, s’alright. Just distracted, was all,” Dan muttered. He took a few deep breaths in, as his heart was still racing despite the fact that, really, there was no _immediate_ danger. He was simply still on edge from being alone, and he couldn't necessarily blame himself for the familiar anxiety.

Although, the deep breaths seemed entirely useless when Dan finally managed to make eye contact with the man. The bright, bottle green eyes that met Dan’s dull brown ones were oddly trustworthy, and he relaxed almost immediately. He gave the man a much more lively smile, tilting his head to the side much like a dog.

“Um, was there something you needed?” Dan asked, noting the many bags scattered by the man's feet. He seemed to be struggling with the two that were already grasped in his hands, and there were at least three more.

The man’s eyes perked up even more at Dan’s question, and he began nodding. “Oh, well if it isn’t too much to ask, I was wondering if you could help me carry these to my truck. It’s just around the hill,” he said. “And if not, it’s no problem, but it’ll take me ages to do it myself, and there’s really not many other people around today.”

Dan was nodding along before his mind could even begin to think of the repercussions (after all, there couldn’t possibly be _that_ many) and he almost eagerly closed the distance between himself and the man. Dan had always been one to help others, it’s just how he was, and if he took pride in doing so once he was alone, who had to know?

He hiked his backpack up higher on his shoulder before bending down and grabbing the remaining bags, which were significantly heavier than they looked. They were just tied up grocery bags, but the contents inside of them weren’t so forgiving. 

“What’s in these?” Dan asked, quirking an eyebrow at the man. 

“Oh, just odds and ins. Clothes, tools, books, etcetera. Planning on taking them to the donation center down the street,” he explained, leading Dan down the hill and closer to the treeline. There was a sleek black truck sat in the otherwise empty lot at the bottom of the hill, which Dan hadn’t even known existed. The lot was pretty well tucked away, though, and Dan really only visited this park before and after school, and that was just to walk across it. There was probably loads of places he didn’t know about.

“There’s a donation center near here?” Dan asked, shooting a look back at the man. “I’ve lived here my entire life and I’ve not seen it once,” he mumbled. He grinned after a moment, giggling quietly. “I am rather oblivious, though. Must’ve just missed it.”

“Must’ve,” the man replied, his voice seemingly tense and pulled taut. “Can I take your backpack from you? Might be a bit lighter,” he asked, holding his free hand out.

Dan bit his lip as he tried to discreetly brush off the rush of anxiety that dizzied him. He nodded, setting the plastic bags down before sliding the straps of his backpack off of his arms, handing it over to the man. “Thanks,” Dan mumbled, offering up a half hearted smile.

“Just- put the bags in the back,” he directed in reply, planting himself close behind Dan. His eyes never left the teenager, making sure to watch his every move like a hawk.

Dan did as he was told, picking the bags up off of the ground and standing on his tippy toes to place the bags gently in the bed of the truck as to not damage anything. Once he made sure nothing was going to tumble over and spill out, he turned around quickly, stumbling back against the truck in surprise when he realized just how close the man was. Dan huffed out a nervous laugh and pressed a hand to his chest; his heart was once again beating erratically, the _thumps_ loud in his ears.

“Two more,” the man said, raising the bags he was holding. He gave Dan what was meant to be a reassuring smile before handing off the two bags, nodding back to the truck. 

Dan took the bags quickly, suddenly very eager to just go home. He briefly noted how his hands were trembling as he placed the bags alongside the others, and for some reason a petrifying wave of fear washed over his body, sending goosebumps down all of his limbs and causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand straight up.

And maybe, Dan thought, just _maybe_ he should’ve paid closer attention to the little details. 

Dan barely had time to blink before there was a thick arm wrapping around his neck from behind, followed by a roughly calloused hand winding its way around both of his wrists and tugging back, back, back.

“Make one fucking sound and we’ll do this the hard way, got it?” the man growled in Dan’s ear, his hot, rancid breath fanning across Dan’s quickly paling skin. He squeezed Dan’s wrists together when the teenager didn’t reply, causing him to whimper loudly.

Dan did his best to nod, terror consuming every inch of his body as he fell into a state of shock. Dan had never been one to fight back, anyways, so he simply kept his body as slack as he could as he was pushed up against one of the doors forcefully, the man binding his wrists together with thick rope; the material was harsh against Dan’s skin, rubbing it raw as it was tightened securely.

Dan held back a cry of pain as he was spun around and shoved back against the vehicle, this time to the left of the door rather than against it. Tears were steadily flooding his eyes, making it harder to see what was happening right in front of him, but Dan was almost thankful for that. It made it much more difficult to see the face of the male who was manhandling his body; Dan was sure he’d vomit if he got a clear look of the sadistic grin that was twisting into the man’s features. 

“It’s a shame, really,” the man huffed, tugging open the car door, “you’re brother is so much prettier.”

Dan clenched his eyes shut at the words, desperately trying to force down the wave of nausea that rushed through him. His fingernails were digging into the soft palms of his hands, the pain doing little to nothing to distract him from what was happening. He could still feel the calloused grip of the man’s hand on his arm, the hot breath that never seemed to fade, and the bite of the man’s words. It wouldn’t _stop,_ and Dan was going to be _sick_.

“In you go, c’mon.”

Dan whimpered quietly, murmuring soft ‘no’s’ as he was shoved face first onto the floorboards of the grimy truck. He kept his eyes firmly shut, refusing to properly take in the situation as his legs were lifted and pushed forcefully into the vehicle as well, bending in a way that definitely wasn’t normal.

And it seemed as though this action pulled a worryingly loud noise out of him, as soon after Dan felt a particularly hard tug on his hair. Even more tears pricked behind his eyes, but he refused to open them. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t- 

“What did I tell you about being quiet?” the man snarled, shoving Dan’s face into the floor violently. 

“M’s- sor- sorry, pl- ple-ase, please, m’sor- sorry,” Dan cried, biting his lip as pain sparked through his entire body. 

“Shut up!” he yelled angrily, grabbing Dan’s neck and squeezing _tighter, tighter, tighter_. “Make one more fucking noise, and I swear to God you won’t live through this!”

And in that moment (and every single one to follow), with mind-consuming terror and agony making up his entire being, Dan really wished that he hadn’t.


	2. one

There were only a few reasons as to why anyone ever went into the forest that laid on the outskirts of the average sized town Phil lived in. It was a place used for reckless teens to get drunk and ingest illegal substances, resulting in messy sex and all around bad choices. Honestly, it wasn’t particularly uncommon for Phil to see a wreck of a teen stumbling out of said woods late at night and vomiting on the ground as they tripped and fell to their knees. It was a common sight, even, one that made Phil a bit sad every time, but it wasn’t as if he ever did anything about it. He really hadn’t thought that tonight would be any different when he caught sight of someone kneeling on the ground from across the small street.

Typically, though, the teens and young adults tottering out of the forest never looked so helpless. This boy was alone, only wearing torn briefs and a thin t-shirt that engulfed his skinny frame in the midst of November. There was something about his build and mannerisms that struck a chord in Phil’s mind, causing him to wince as he saw the oddly familiar boy grip at the damp grass and continuously throw up the substances in his stomach. Phil couldn’t make out any tiny details because of the distance between them, but a part of him was screaming inside that he knew this boy, maybe from school or work or volunteering, but it simply wasn’t connecting.

The rational side of Phil’s mind begged him to keep walking. It was eight o’clock in the evening, and as Phil was already running late on his journey to his best friends house; he really couldn’t risk the distraction, especially on a day like this. Dakota was waiting for him, probably wrapped up in bed whilst having his seventy fifth mental breakdown of the week, and Phil seriously needed to stop being late to comfort his best friend-

A grotesque retching sound paired with a sob cut through his thoughts. Phil immediately caught sight of the red liquid dripping down the boy's face (in more than one place, he might add), and before he could even think it over, he was quickly walking over to the other side of the road.

“Excuse me? Are you alright?” Phil yelled, quickening his pace when he saw the boy look up towards him with wide, scared brown eyes.

The long, curly haired brunette shook his head vigorously, throwing himself backward onto his palms and trying to scramble away from Phil as fast as possible. Sobs and hiccups were audibly escaping his mouth, an ever present fear noticeable in the noises.

Phil halted his movements immediately, holding up his hands in front of him for the boy to see. “Hey, it’s alright, I won’t hurt you. Jus’ wanna help,” he said, weaving a gentle tone into his voice.

The grubby boy shook his head, seemingly giving up on moving away and falling back on the ground. His thin, frail hands gripped at the grass, his nails digging into the earth underneath. His legs, which Phil now noticed were bloody and covered in fresh mud, were trembling, whether it be from the cold or something entirely different.

A considerable amount of concern began to flood Phil’s stomach as he took in the fresh blood and grime that seemed to cover each centimeter of this boy. He looked over the other’s entire body, taking notice of how thin and unhealthy looking he was. There was still something so familiar about him, though, despite the clear form of deterioration and the layers of dried blood on his face-

Phil’s thoughts were interrupted for the second time as the boy began to vomit once more, this time all over the front of his torso and into his lap. He rolled over onto his stomach shortly after and continued to expel the contents of his stomach, which, at this point, was mostly bile and _too much blood._ And despite the boy's clear distrust in Phil, he couldn’t help but scramble to the ground to make sure the boy wasn’t dead (and Phil knew this was unrealistic, but he’d always been one to panic, especially when blood was involved).

Phil placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, ignoring the immediate flinch, and tried to catch his attention. Phil lowered his voice so he wouldn’t frighten the other boy any further. “Sh, c’mon, you’re okay,” he soothed. “Jus’ wanna help, that’s all. Can I please help you?” Phil moved so that he was sat on his knees in front of the boy, and tried hard to ignore the vomit seeping into his jeans.

The boy whimpered, clenching his fingers around handfuls of damp grass and laying his head against the earth, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “Hurts,” he panted, voice full of sorrow. “Hurts, pl- please, hurts.” 

Phil’s eyes flickered to the left side of the boy’s face -the side that was previously hidden- and he visibly flinched. From the top of his jaw, running all the way up to his temple was a moderately deep cut, which was obviously quite fresh. It was clotting, but there were still drips of blood that were dangerously close to falling into the boy’s eyes, had it not been for the position in which he was laying. 

“Hurts, God, please, wanna go home,” he pleaded, opening his eyes and shifting his gaze to Phil’s. 

Finally getting the chance to look up close, Phil realized that the boy’s eyes were completely bloodshot. It was concerning, really, but what was even more concerning was the fact that Phil could place those doe-like irises anywhere, because they were the same ones he saw every fucking day. The same wide almond-colored eyes that belonged not only to Phil’s best friend, but to the boy who had gone missing two years ago that very day.

And God, had Phil ever felt more stupid?

It hit him all at once, and it hit him hard. The mop of curly brown hair that, even though it was considerably longer and more tangled, he had ran his hands through almost daily since he was six years old up until he was fifteen. The deep southern accent that had always sounded a bit too posh for Phil’s northern ears, but was comforting in a familiar way nonetheless. And the eyes, the _fucking eyes_ , that Phil had explored so many times, over and over and over-

“Dan, oh God, Dan, you’re h- here, fuck,” Phil sobbed, bringing his hand that was resting on Dan’s shoulder up to the younger boy’s face and gently tapping the bridge of his nose. He faintly took notice of how bad he was trembling, but that didn’t matter because this was _Dan_. It was Dan, not some drunken and bumbling idiot who’d managed to get himself lost in the forest, and Phil felt so fucking useless for not realizing sooner.

But now really wasn’t the time to criticize his own ignorant tendencies, because Dan looked dangerously close to unconsciousness, and that wasn’t something Phil considered to be positive for the situation. He reached blindly towards his back pocket to retrieve his phone with his free hand, unlocking the device quickly and dialing Dakota’s mobile.

As he held the phone up to his ear, Phil made sure to keep his pointer finger on the bridge of Dan’s nose (and whether that was to comfort Dan or himself, he couldn’t really tell). Dan wasn’t flinching anymore at Phil’s touch, choosing instead to simply stare at him with an oddly calculating gaze as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

Phil breathed a sigh of relief when the phone stopped at three rings, and was about to speak up when Dakota began practically sobbing through the phone. 

“You better have a _damned_ good reason as to why you aren’t here yet, Phil, I swear to God-”

“Kota, please, just- is Officer Liguori still there? It’s Dan,” Phil panted. He risked a glance down at said boy, only to find his that his face had gone a pale shade of green and his eyebrows were scrunched together, displaying the obviously horrendous amount of pain he was in. 

“He is, but- wait, what do you mean? What about Dan? Phil, today really isn’t the day to-”

Dakota cut himself off as violent retching sounds flooded through Phil’s end of the line, as well as oddly distinguishable high pitched cries and a disgruntled noise that came from Phil. “Phil? What the fuck is going on? Who was that? Where are you?”

Phil grimaced as Dan continued to throw up stomach bile and blood, with the majority of the fluids landing on Phil’s already ruined jeans. He ran his hand through Dan’s knotted hair as best as he could, trying to comfort him as he moaned in distress.

“Please, hurts so bad,” Dan whimpered, his voice quiet and scratchy. His bloodshot eyes were rolling back into his head, with what Phil could only assume was overbearing, unadulterated pain. His entire body was twitching one way or another, spasms wracking his thin bones every few seconds as he gripped onto the wet grass.

Phil was panicking, as well. He’d almost forgotten that Dakota was still waiting for some sort of explanation, if not for his friends loud and persistent yelling that started up as soon as Dan had muttered his pleas. It was getting to be too much for one night, and Phil was caught between trying to reassure Dan that _everything is going to be okay, I promise_ and yelling at Dakota to _just send a fucking ambulance already_. His head was spinning, and Phil didn’t even realize he’d been sobbing until he’d reached a hand up to wipe the sweat off of his face.

“It’s- it’s Dan, Kota, it’s Dan,” Phil whimpered, gripping his phone even tighter as it threatened to slip through his shaking fingertips. “He- he’s here, and I- I d- don’t know what to f- fucking _do_ , just call 999, _please_ ,” he begged, staring down at said boy with wide eyes. He bent further over Dan, trying desperately to keep his attention, and ran his hand over the brunettes clammy forehead gently.

“No,” Dakota mumbled, his voice thick with emotion, “you’re lying, you aren’t- he- he’s _not_ there, Phil- how could you lie a- about this, especially t- today! What the fuck, Phil, I can’t-”

“Shut up, Dakota! Just- fucking shut up! Why the hell would I lie about this! Just- just fucking c- call an ambulance, Jesus Christ!” Phil yelled, sobs working their way up his throat. He felt tears burning trails down his face, clouding his vision and dripping onto his ruined shirt.

Although he was practically unconscious, Dan still found it in himself to flinch at Phil’s loud, harsh words. He began curling into himself, trying to pull away from the other’s hold, but crying out in pain when he moved. Unintelligible pleas were spilling from his mouth, getting louder and louder as the pain continued to build up in his small form, forcing him into more spasms. “Stop, stop, stop- m- make i- it stop, god, _please_ ,” he whimpered, indiscernible. 

“I’m sorry, oh my god, please, you’re okay,” Phil rushed out, wrapping his free arm around Dan and pulling him back towards his lap. “It’s okay, you’ll be alright-”

“No, no way, Phil, please- pr- promise you- you aren’t lying,” Dakota whispered.

His voice was filled with disbelief, and Phil couldn’t handle it anymore.

Phil sobbed, leaning over the grimy brunette and tightening his grip on his cellphone. “D- Dakota, _please_ , j- just call 999,” he cried, the panic that was building up, up, up, and finally bubbling over. “We- we’re on Indigo st- street, by the- the forest, and- and the light p- post, please, I- I- I do- don’t know wh- what to do, _please_!”

There was rustling on the other end of the phone, but Phil couldn’t make out what any of the noises were, as Dan began squirming again. His glassy, bloodshot eyes met Phil’s own, the look held inside absolutely wretched and inconsolable. He looked as though he was trying to say something, but what with the heaving breaths he wasn’t able. 

Phil reached for one of Dan’s hands without thinking, lacing their fingers together carefully and squeezing lightly. “Y- y- you- you’re go- gonna be o- okay- pr- promise, I- I promise,” he choked, watching as his tears fell onto Dan’s face, intermixing with the brunettes in an almost cynical way. Had the circumstances been different, maybe Phil would’ve taken the time to find some sort of metaphor in it, but even _thinking_ about making any aspect of the situation poetic made Phil feel physically ill. 

“Phil? Can you hear me? It’s Officer Liguori,” came a deep voice on the other end of the phone, shocking Phil out of his panic only slightly.

Phil made a noise of affirmation, still trying to keep the majority of his focus on Dan, who was getting closer and closer to falling unconscious. He kept squeezing the younger’s hand gently every few seconds, letting out a small sigh when Dan returned the pressure.

“I need you to listen to me, Phil. I know what’s happening is confusing, but I need you to stay on the line with me. I’ve already phoned 999, and an ambulance should be there soon,” Officer Liguori said, his voice steady and serious. 

Although, Phil really couldn’t find it in himself to care about what else the older man had to say. As soon as he finished speaking, Phil dropped his phone on the ground beside him and shakily gathered Dan into his arms more securely. The brunette didn’t fight it, simply letting his body go as limp as he could as Phil held him close. 

“W- wanna g- go ho- home,” Dan whispered almost silently, making his best effort to look Phil in the eyes. Dan’s doe-like gaze was filled with something akin to recognition, and although he wasn’t in a particularly stable mindset, he found a significant amount of comfort in Phil’s dark blue eyes. It calmed down his nerves just enough to stop him from hyperventilating, which he was sure he’d be undeniable thankful for later.

Phil briefly looked up as sirens rang throughout the previously silent night, but was quick to look back down at Dan. He tried to give the younger a reassuring smile, but was well aware it was a pitying grimace at most. “Y- you’re safe, pr- promise. Taking you home,” Phil mumbled in return. 

Dan gave Phil’s hand a weak squeeze, his eyes displaying all of the emotions he couldn’t properly express, before his eyelids fluttered shut.

\---

It was nearly two in the morning before anyone notified the Howell’s of Dan’s condition. As his mum and dad sat on the plastic chairs in the waiting room, Dakota continuously paced the floor in front of them for _hours_ , back and forth, back and forth. It was obvious his movements were irritating the other guests in the room, as well as the receptionist sat at the front desk, but it was as if no one had the heart to tell him to stop. By the time a doctor came into the waiting room to retrieve the family, Dakota was convinced he’d almost walked a hole into the cheap linoleum flooring.

“Is the Howell family here?” asked a young woman clad in a pristine white lab coat. She had just entered through the heavy metal doors that rested adjacent to the waiting area, and held a clipboard in her nimble-looking hands. She had a seemingly genuine smile plastered on her face as she scanned the small room.

“Us- that’s us,” Dakota’s mum spoke up, her voice thick with an onslaught of unshed tears. She pushed herself to her feet quickly, making her way over to the younger woman and holding out a trembling hand. “I’m Mrs. Howell- please, call me Elaine, I- I’m Daniel’s mum,” she muttered, fumbling over her words.

“Elaine, it’s so nice to meet you,” the woman replied in a soft, comforting voice as she shook Elaine’s hand. “I’m Dr. Pryor, and I’ll be taking care of Daniel while he’s here for recovery.” She took a moment to glance behind Mrs. Howell, smiling gently at Dakota and his dad. After releasing Elaine’s hand, Dr. Pryor made her way over to the two males. 

“A pleasure to meet you two as well. May I ask your names?” 

Mr. Howell stood up and held out his hand, an uneasy smile forced onto his face. “Michael,” he said tersely, nodding once as they briefly shook hands.

Dr. Pryor nodded in return before giving her attention to Dakota, who was staring at the floor with his eyebrows knitted together. 

“And I’m assuming you’re Daniel’s brother?” she asked, leaning her head forward and sticking a hand out to get the boy’s attention.

Dakota looked up suddenly, as if he forgot she was even there, and nodded in agreement. “Um, his twin, yeah,” he mumbled, keeping his hands down firmly by his sides.

“Oh!” Dr. Pryor exclaimed, grinning. “Fraternal, or?” 

Her words (or word, really) caused Dakota’s mouth to form a surprised ‘O’ shape, and he clenched his fists together tightly. He shot his mum and dad a panicked glance before returning his gaze to the young woman in front of him. “Identical,” he whispered, his throat thick with unshed tears. 

The doctor’s neatly plucked eyebrows shot up in surprise and a dark blush rose to her cheeks. “Oh, my apologies, it’s just- well, you two don’t look much alike, but I suppose that could just be Daniel’s condition-”

“It’s fine,” Dakota croaked, “happens all the time.”

\---

After a rather uncomfortable walk down too many hallways, the Howell’s were sat in Dr. Pryor’s stuffy office, tension looming over them like smoke from a fire. Dakota was perched on the edge of the small couch that was sat behind the chairs his parents were in, finding it incredibly hard to listen to what the doctor was saying when _Dan was so close_. 

“How long does he have to stay?” Elaine asked, her voice wobbly. It was clear she was trying her best to hold back another flood of tears, but that wasn’t to say she was doing it well.

Dr. Pryor frowned, lacing her fingers together and resting them on her desk. “It’s hard to say, really. Recovery wise, physical that is, he really only needs a few weeks to heal up. He’s malnourished and dehydrated, but that seems to be more recent. We have him on a drip right now for liquids, but we need to wait a bit longer to see if he can eat himself or if we will have to put him on a feeding tube,” she explained, glancing down at the papers on her clipboard. “There’s some bruising and quite a few scrapes, although the only major laceration is on his face-”

“Wait, what?” Michael spoke up, sensing the confusion radiating from his wife. “How- how bad is ‘major’?”

“It’s nothing that can’t be fixed,” Dr. Pryor quickly reassured. “We’ve given him a few stitches, as it runs the entire length of the left side of his face, but we anticipate that it will heal up quickly if it’s properly taken care of. There will definitely be a scar, but other than pain, it won’t cause any issues.”

Elaine took a deep breath, trying to clear her head a bit. Michael had his hand on her shoulder, although the gesture was a little less than comforting. “Is that as far as his injuries go?” she asked, defeat clouding her voice.

Dr. Pryor grimaced, giving her head a quick shake ‘no’. “Unfortunately not, as there are still a few tests we have to run. We can really only assume from Daniel’s reaction to the male nurses and doctors that there has been some sexual abuse as well, which requires care from one of our specialists who will be here later today. It’s not quite established, but simply from observing him we can almost one hundred percent confirm that he’s been through something of the sort, if not once then multiple times,” she said, keeping her voice calm and even. “It’s very common in cases like Daniel’s, which leads me to-”

Dakota shot up from the couch, shaking his head and clenching his fists. “I- I’m leaving. I can’t- I’ll be d- downstairs,” he mumbled, making his way to the door quickly. 

“Dakota,” Elaine said, her voice pleading. She looked at her son with teary eyes, silently begging him to stay.

“No, mum, I- I can’t listen to this. I don’t want to, and- I’m t- tired, and hungry, so I’ll be downstairs,” he replied, not making an effort to keep eye contact. His hand was already poised on the doorknob, as if he was waiting for permission to leave regardless.

Michael simply nodded at Dakota, excusing him from the room and squeezing Elaine’s shoulder before she could say anything.

The three adults were silent as the door slammed shut. Dr. Pryor stared down at her desk patiently, clearing her throat after a moment or two. “As I was saying,” she started, lifting her head up to make eye contact with Elaine and Michael.

“Sorry, he- it’s been especially hard for him, and this is- this is a lot to take in… for all of us, but Dakota… he’s been struggling quite a bit,” Michael said before Dr. Pryor could continue. 

The woman nodded. “I understand, really. It’s normal for siblings to react this way, especially with how close I assume Daniel and Dakota were before everything happened.”

The adults were silence for a few moments before Dr. Pryor cleared her throat again. “As I was saying, um- in cases like Daniel’s, sexual abuse as well as emotional abuse are very common. Since he was missing for so long, it’s important that we take all steps necessary to ensure he doesn’t have any sexually transmitted diseases, or other injuries involving, and if he does, that we do our best to treat them,” she explained. 

Elaine rubbed at her eyes, letting out a tired sigh. “And the emotional stuff?”

“Before we can recommend any type of treatment, whether that be therapy, medication, or anything of the like, we need to figure out where exactly he is mentally. It’s very likely that there is some severe damage regarding his mental health, which is just as important to treat as the physical injuries,” Dr. Pryor said. “Once we have a full evaluation, we can start to plan where to go from there.”

Elaine nodded, resting her face in her palms. “And what’s his condition right now?”

“He’s asleep, as we have him on some sedatives. He was throwing up quite a bit before the ambulance from what I’ve been told, but I’m almost positive it was just from stress. There was a bit of blood, but that was a result of his throat being a bit scratched up, so also nothing to worry about. From what we can see, he’s actually in a surprisingly good condition considering the situation.”

“When can we see him?” Michael asked.

Dr. Pryor sighed, running a hand through her ponytail. “Visiting hours start at eight, but I really suggest you get as much sleep as you can. Chances are he won’t be awake until much later, and if he is, we aren’t so sure he’ll be fit to have visitors. Now, since he is underage, we will need at least one of you present to deal with paperwork, but I think the best option would just be to wait a couple of days-”

“No- no I can’t- it’s been _two years_ , and you’re telling me I have to wait even longer?” Elaine spat in exasperation. “I haven’t seen my son in two years! I didn’t even know if he was _alive_ , and I can’t even see that he’s safe?”

“Elaine,” Michael murmured, his voice holding a bit of warning. He gave her a pointed look, his eyes pleading for her to not cause a scene. 

“Mrs. Howell, while I understand what you’re saying wholeheartedly, the most important thing right now is ensuring Daniel’s comfort and safety. It’s very difficult to determine what could trigger him without having done a full evaluation, and the last thing we want is him feeling threatened,” Dr. Pryor explained, her voice taking on a clearly practiced professional tone.

Elaine slumped in her chair, creases forming in between her eyebrows. Another wave of tears began to well up in her eyes as she sent an apologetic look towards the other woman. “Can’t I at least see him? Just- even if it’s just through a window- I need to know he’s safe,” she pleaded, her voice cracking.

Dr. Pryor shared a looked with Michael before sighing, lifting her hand up to rub at her temple. “Come back in the morning, and we’ll see if he’s stable. I’m not promising anything, but we can try,” she said. 

The barrier Elaine was barely holding up crumbled, thankful cries jumbling up along with desperate sobs. She fisted her fingers through her hair and tugged, folding over on herself in the uncomfortable plastic chair she was hunched in. 

“I believe that’s all we have to discuss,” Dr. Pryor said quietly to Michael. “I’ll see you lot in the morning, yes?”

Michael nodded and mouthed ‘thank you’ at the doctor, sending her a tight-lipped smile as he gathered Elaine carefully. 

Dr. Pryor nodded in return, closing her eyes and breathing heavily as the couple practically stumbled out of the room with hushed goodbyes.

\---

“You’re allowed to be affected by this, Kota,” Phil whispered, running his hand through Dakota’s unruly hair. “He’s your brother. He was gone for two years, and you had no idea where he was. That’s not something you’re expected to just deal with, you know?”

Dakota sniffled, wiping his tear stained face onto Phil’s jumper. His fingers were wound into the fabric tightly, his knuckles turning white. Dakota knew he was probably ruining Phil’s nice sweater, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel guilty, especially with how torn up he was over the current situation. 

Really, he just hadn’t expected it to hit him so hard. Sure, the past two years had been absolute hell, and he had found himself thrown into some major mental health debacles, but Dan was _safe_. Dan was coming _home_. Dakota wasn’t meant to still be upset about it; he was supposed to feel relief and happiness, but all he felt was the overwhelming anxiety and grief that had plagued him since Dan had disappeared. 

Phil shook his head as Dakota expressed this to him, tugging the brunette closer to his chest. “Dan isn’t the only one who’s going to struggle with the lasting damage. This affected all of us, Dakota. Dan, you, your parents, _me_ even.” Phil took a deep breath before putting his pointer finger under Dakota’s chin, tipping it up so that he could make eye contact with his friend. “I get nightmares too,” he whispered, “of finding him, seeing him in such severe pain. I haven’t- I can’t wear those jeans, or that hoodie anymore. I had to buy myself new shoes because of it, Kota. I see it everytime I close my eyes, even if it’s just for a second. I haven’t been able to sleep for days.”

Dakota searched Phil’s eyes for any dishonesty, and felt another round of tears when he found nothing other than the truth. “I feel guilty,” Dakota croaked, his lips twitching downward. “He’s- Dan was hurt, like, actually _hurt_ and I don’t want him- or anyone- to think that I’m disregarding his feelings. I- I’m just so scared, Phil, for him a- and for me and you, I just-”

“Sh, you’re okay. I’ve got you,” Phil murmured, pulling Kota back to his chest. He frowned as the younger began to sob, the noises guttural and so, so loud. Phil felt tears of his own begin to prick behind his sore eyes, but he couldn’t cry. Not when Dakota needed him to be strong. “You’re allowed to be scared. I’d be concerned if you weren’t.”

“I- I- I ju- just miss him, s- so much, a- and I- don’t know what t- to _do_ , fuck-” 

“Kota,” Phil murmured, running one of his hands through the younger’s short curls, “you don’t have to do anything to prove that you care, okay? All you need to do is be there for him, even if that means giving him space, or letting him sleep in your room when he’s scared.”

“It doesn’t feel real,” Dakota whispered, forcing himself closer to Phil. His grip on Phil’s jumper tightened more, if that was even possible. “I- It had gotten to the point where I th- thought he was d- gone forever- and… I’d almost- I was forcing myself to accept that,” he whimpered. He let out another sob and began to shake his head back and forth, trembles wracking his body. “Now that he’s back, I- I don’t know what to do, be- because I feel l- like I need to do something.”

Phil frowned, squeezing Dakota tightly. “Just being there for him is doing something, Kota.”

“I miss him, Phil,” Dakota croaked, his voice breaking. “I miss him so fucking much.”

“I know,” Phil whispered, rubbing Dakota’s back. “I know.” 

\---

A similar incident occurred a few days later. 

Phil had gotten a text from Dakota during the middle of his shift at the cafe he worked at, asking him to come over after he got off of work. He’d sent a reply confirming that he would be over right after two (on his break, of course; his manager was on thin ice with him texting in the middle of shifts) and that was that. It wasn’t unusual for Dakota to request such a thing, as the two boys tended to spend most of their free time together, especially during recent years, but the state in which Phil found his best friend when he did arrive at the Howell’s house was a bit concerning. 

Elaine had sent him right up, saying Dakota hadn’t come down once that day. After assuring her that he’d try his best to get Dakota to at least eat something, he hurried up the stairs, only to stop when he saw the door to Dan’s old bedroom open. It was a sight Phil hadn’t seen since the month after Dan first went missing, as the family had a sort of unspoken agreement to leave the room alone until Dan was home. 

Phil drew his eyebrows together in confusion, backtracking a couple of feet to peer in the room. The lights were off and the curtains were closed, but Dakota’s hunched over figure was as clear as day. The brunette was standing in the middle of the dark room, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso as he simply stared. Quiet sniffles bounced off of the walls, drawing a frown out of Phil.

“Kota?” he said, leaning against the doorframe. 

The younger boy spun around, his eyes wide. There were obvious tear tracks on his cheeks, and it was clear his hair was matted and significantly grubby. He let out a loud huff when he realized it was just Phil who interrupted his thoughts, his shoulders sagging. “Sorry, I just-” he started, but cut himself off with a sob.

The creases in between Phil’s eyebrows deepened as Dakota began to properly cry, and he quickly made his way over to his friend. Phil gathered Dakota into his arms, ushering him out of Dan’s room and closing the door shut firmly.

“Talk to me,” Phil said gently as he led Kota into his own room. Phil helped Dakota lower himself against the bed, settling right next to him and pulling him into his chest. The younger boy was shaking quite intensely, sobs wracking his body every second.

Dakota shook his head, bringing his hands up to his face and scrubbing against it with the material of his jumper that fell in the middle of his palms. “‘S the s- same shit,” he cried, voice thick with emotion. 

“How do you mean?” 

Instead of voicing a reply (he hardly could, really) Dakota answered by flinging himself into Phil’s arms, digging his nails into the older boy’s back and letting out bone rattling wails. It was as if a dam had been broken down inside of his mind, and everything he’d been secretly bottling up for the past two years was finally flowing freely. 

Phil’s shirt was damp with Dakota’s tears in a matter of minutes, but Phil knew that deep down he didn’t mind at all. He simply sat there holding the younger boy for what felt like hours, rubbing his back and whispering reassuring words into his ear. Eventually Phil began to cry as well (albeit a bit less than his friend), the situation sparking something in his mind that he couldn’t quite place his finger on at the moment.

_“I’m sorry, oh my god, please, you’re okay,” Phil rushed out, wrapping his free arm around Dan and pulling him back towards his lap. “It’s okay, you’ll be alright.”_


	3. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i fucked up bad and like. didn't put part of this chapter in when i first posted. just an fyi. love that.

Dan was put on suicide hold for a month and a half, and that was after the doctors had made sure all of his other wounds were healed up. Surprisingly enough, all of the tests the specialist had done involving possible sexually transmitted diseases came up as negative, and there was only minor internal wounds that were said to not cause any problems. 

No matter how much of a shock the results were to everyone, it was something that made the situation a little bit better. It made things a bit less complicated, especially for Dan, who was already in such a bad place mentally. It was a bit of a relief, not having to deal with anything physical further than the cut on his face (and the few handfuls of purple bruises, which felt like nothing in comparison to the memories). 

What also came as a surprise to everyone was how accepting Dan was of the treatments he was given. After the first couple of days of being sectioned, Dan had begun to loosen up with the staff, especially the female nurses that regularly checked on him. He let them run tests on him without complaining too much, and actually made a significant amount of conversation considering.

(He wasn’t so accepting of the male staff, but that was to be expected.)

Even so, he definitely had to be treated with caution. There were a handful of particularly bad days in which he’d made multiple efforts to injure either himself or the people around him, which set back his progress quite a bit in the long run. He was originally only meant to be on suicide hold for two weeks, but the time was extended after the first bad episode. 

A rather violent nightmare had woken him up around three in the morning, tearing excruciating screams and panic out of his chest. His face was a mess of snot and tears, his hands shaking so badly that he couldn’t even push himself up into a sitting position. His eyes were completely glazed over with fear, and his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest at any minute. There was also a very distinctive feeling of dampness in his lower regions, as well as the mattress and sheets underneath him. 

His eyes flickered over the entire room as he tried again and again to sit up, but both actions were pointless; the room was pitch black, other than the crack under the door where faint light was filtering in from the hallway, and he was simply too unstable to do anything but lay on the wet bed in fear. 

Luckily (or not so luckily, it was hard to tell) a nurse that had been walking by heard his screams, and immediately burst into the room, flicking the fluorescent lights on. The bright glow drew even more tears out of Dan’s raw eyes, making them burn.

The nurse, who was _definitely_ male, _definitely_ blonde, and _definitely_ not a part of Dan’s case rushed over to the bedside, kneeling so he was level with Dan. His hands, which had tight blue latex gloves placed over them, rested against the edge of the mattress, practically taunting Dan. 

Whimpers drew themselves out of Dan’s scratched up throat as he tried once more to push himself up and away, but it was mute. The nurse reached over to pin Dan’s arms to the bed so he would stop moving so much before beginning to speak muddled words. 

Dan didn’t understand one thing coming out of the mans mouth. Instead, his mind, which was already on the edge, had replaced the nurses kind face with one that was much more vicious; one with piercing green eyes, sharp facial features, and a scratchy beard that Dan could feel _everywhere_. And instead of the mildly uncomfortable hospital bed, the only thing Dan felt underneath him was cold metal and a mixture of his own bodily fluids.

Piercing screams and frantic sobs filled the room as Dan begged and begged for the man to leave him alone, his legs kicking against the feeling of leather restraints. “Pl- plea- please- s- stop- leave- leave me al- alone!” he wailed, squeezing his eyes shut. The feeling of nausea was rising in his throat, and it was only a matter of minutes before everything in his stomach was expelled.

He faintly felt the hands gripping his arms vanish, but the panic in his chest continued to rise higher and higher. There were too many sensations crowding Dan’s body, and his mind kept reeling back to when he was strapped down to a metal bench while blue latex gloves roamed freely over his entirely exposed body, poking and slapping and pulling _everywhere_. 

It was when something pulled particularly hard on Dan’s arm that he finally threw up, the acidic and oddly smooth liquid spraying all over the front of his body. He was torn out of his memories as he forcefully leaned forward, continuously getting sick all over himself (and the three nurses that had been called into the room during his episode). He cried out as a pain in his abdomen tugged harshly on his stomach, and it was then that he remembered the feeding tube they had inserted just the day before. The thought of that itself made Dan feel even more nauseous, and soon enough he was sicking up just stomach acid.

“Daniel, please, we need you to listen to us,” someone, presumably a nurse, said, her voice gentle and… watery? 

He opened his eyes, torturous sobs still dragging out of his throat. He could barely see through his tears, but he was sure the man was gone. That being said, there were still _too many_ hands touching him and _too many_ voices, and he just wanted them to _stop, God why wouldn’t they stop?_

“St- stop, j- j- just make it st- stop!” he wailed, unaware of his nails clawing at his arms. He barely felt it when he scraped over his IV, which would typically cause a great deal of pain, but it immediately sent him further into panic as the nurses tried to restrain him. Their hands felt like a million stings on his skin, and he tried to shake them off to no avail. 

A wave of _something_ washed over him, then, and suddenly he was sinking into the hospital bed, his eyelids close to falling. It was as if his mind had been cleared, while also being covered with a film. He could see the nurses, hear them, bustling about, giving orders to get clean sheets, or get a new set of clothes, but it sounded like he was under water. 

He wanted to panic when an older woman helped him up and into a wheelchair, pushing him into the bathroom, but he _couldn’t_. She had a warm, wet washcloth in her hand, and was dabbing it across Dan’s face with a gentle touch. He faintly heard the pleas that he was whispering, the croaky sound of his voice scraping against his torn up throat, but no one listened to him.

Once he was closer to falling asleep, they manhandled him into a clean set of clothes. It felt vile, their hands peeling away his vomit-soaked clothing from his burning skin, and if he had enough energy to fight it, he would’ve. As the sedatives that they pumped into his bloodstream continued to take effect, the film over his mind grew darker, deeper.

And all Dan could do was lay there and take what they were forcing upon him, exactly how _he_ had.

\---

It was a pain, dealing with the legalities of the whole situation. When Dan had first gone missing, everyone he’d had significant contact with, whether it be at school or home, was questioned at least once. His parents were asked a variety of questions, some being “has he shown any signs of depression?” or “has he had any major rejections?”, but once it was cleared up that, no, Dan didn’t have any problems at home, and no, Dan wasn’t one to just run off, it became a lot more complicated.

He was declared officially missing after twenty four hours, and being that he was only fifteen and an honestly good kid, his case was put pretty high on the priority list. The first couple of weeks were the most stressful, as if they were going to find him, the chances were higher then rather than in, say, two years. 

Needless to say, they didn’t find him in the first few weeks.

Things grew significantly more messy after that, as all anyone could do was wait. The police had other things to do, so the most help they could provide was assigning an officer to look over the Howell’s while things were sorted. Officer Charlie Liguori was welcomed with open arms, as well as his son PJ, but no real progress was made regardless.

Fast forward two years later, Dan was safe, and the man who took him was most definitely on his way to prison. He was found stumbling out of the same forest Phil had found Dan by, and conveniently enough, right after Dan had been secured by the ambulance. 

And now… and now it all seemed so simple. Dan had been right under their noses the entire time, as the Howell’s soon found out. And, really, they were _pissed_. 

“A twenty minute walk?” Michael echoed, his voice filled with disbelief. 

Officer Liguori nodded, a deep grimace set on his face. “Once the guy was detained, they found the place within two hours. Granted, he didn’t really try to cover his tracks, and he had done an incredibly good job doing so before, but it’s still rather confusing.”

Michael sighed, placing his elbows on the desk in front of him and resting his head in his hands. “A twenty minute walk,” he repeated. “A twenty minute walk, and yet it still took two years.”

“Michael-”

He held up a hand, silencing the other man. “I really don’t want to hear it, Charlie,” he breathed, his neck turning an awful shade of red in anger. "My son was missing for _two years_ , with practically the entire town looking for him, and you’re telling me that he was with some _disgusting pedophile_ twenty minutes away the entire time? How the hell did no one find him?”

Officer Liguori bit his lip as he stared down at his desk, his hands folded together and resting on the wood. “I honestly couldn’t tell you, Michael. The property is registered, so there wasn’t any reason to skip over it. And maybe they didn’t; from what I’ve been told- which is exactly what you and Elaine have been told- the guy kept Daniel in an underground shelter of sorts. The cabin itself is relatively rundown, which might’ve been why no one really looked into it. It wasn’t particularly suspicious,” he explained, shrugging a bit. “And typically, in cases like Daniel’s, it’s more common to determine how far the victim could’ve been taken within the first few days. When they didn’t find him in the first week, it’s likely they had given up and just didn’t tell you. They do that sometimes, when the case seems hopeless.”

His words seemed to do the opposite of calming Michael down, although there wasn’t much that could calm him down right then. He slammed his hand down on the desk, ignoring how it caused Charlie to flinch visibly. “That’s such a _bullshit_ excuse! You tell me that if it were one of their children, they would do the same thing!”

“Mr. Howell, please-”

“They wouldn’t! They wouldn’t just give up if it was one of their own! You wouldn’t just toss aside the issue if it were PJ, would you?”

Charlie shook his head. “I wouldn’t give up, Michael,” he said quietly. “And I didn’t give up, with Dan. _I_ didn’t.”

This seemed to be the right choice of words, as Michel sighed in response, his shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, resting his head back into his hands. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t be yelling at you. It’s not your fault, or the rest of the department, that Dan was taken. I know that, it’s just- it-”

“He’s your kid,” Charlie finished.

Michael nodded. “Yeah. He’s my kid. He’s my kid, who doesn’t even want me in the same room as him anymore.”

Charlie was silent for a minute, at a brief loss for words as he observed Michael. He looked so, so tired. “I know I’ve said it far too many times in the past two years, but I truly am sorry, Michael. I’m sorry for you and your family, Dan included.”

“He didn’t deserve it. No one deserves that,” Michael choked out, wiping at the tears welling up in his eyes. “He was such a good kid. He had the biggest ambitions, and the most- the most incredible attitude towards everything- and now… now all of that has been taken from him. He won’t even look at me anymore,” he uttered, defeat clouding his voice. 

Both men were quiet for a few minutes, the ticking of the grandfather clock in Charlie’s office filling the silence. It was nearing four o’clock in the afternoon, which was when Charlie’s shift was meant to end. They’d yet to talk about the basic legal actions that needed to be taken (a conversation that also needed to include the Howell’s lawyer) as well as if Dan had given his statement yet (he definitely hadn’t) but with how the conversation had ended up going, it was probably best they cut it short.

Charlie voiced as much, and Michael nodded in response. “Elaine is probably wondering what’s taking so long anyways. We have to leave for counselling at half four.”

“And how’s that going?” Officer Liguori asked as he stacked up the papers on his desk.

Michael grimaced, pushing himself up out of the chair he was sat in. “Not… well.”

Charlie sucked in a breath, his mouth set in a grim line. “It’s good, though, that you guys are trying. For Dakota, and Dan now,” he replied, standing up as well. He brushed off his trousers, offering a small smile to Michael. 

“I suppose,” he mumbled. A nameless emotion flickered through his eyes, but he blinked it away quickly. “Anyways, I better get going. Thank you, again.”

“Of course, Michael. If you or Elaine need anything else, let me know. I’ll chat with the lead about what we’re going to do from here on out.”

Michael nodded, offering his hand for the other man to shake.

Charlie shook his head, opening his arms up. “We’ve been through a bit too much together in these past few years to still be shaking hands, Howell.”

Smiling for the first time in weeks, Michael gave Charlie a firm hug, accompanied by a rather manly pat on the back. 

\---

Phil had just gotten off of work, and was on his way home when he got a call from Dakota, who was in the process of having a complete breakdown. Phil began walking a bit faster towards Martyn’s flat as he desperately tried to console his friend, but it was pointless.

“Why n- now? Of all the t- times they could’ve br- brought this up, why’d th- they have t- to do it now?” Dakota cried into the phone, his voice sounding as if it was under water.

“Kota, you know the strain that the last two years have put on them. They’re probably trying to do what’s best, for them and for you and Dan,” Phil replied, fishing his keys out of his pocket and unlocking the door. He stumbled into the lounge after locking back up, sending a quick smile to Martyn and Cornelia before rushing to his room. 

“Dan was just found, Phil! D- don’t you think they could’ve fucking wai- waited until he was _better_ , or I don’t know, _out of the hospital_ , to drop divorce onto the table?”

Phil sighed, leaning against his door after he closed it. “Dakota, it’s better that they mention it now rather than waiting until it’s too late. And they said they were trying counseling, right? Who knows, maybe they can work it out.” 

Dakota let out a humorless chortle, the sound causing goosebumps to prickle at Phil’s skin. “They’ve been going for a year, Phil! I- I think if things were going to- to work out, they would’ve!” 

“Do you need me to come over? Or do you need to come over here?” Phil asked abruptly, ignoring Dakota’s protest. It was almost impossible to console him over the phone, Phil had learned. It was much more effective when Phil was able to hold him.

Dakota took a few deep breaths before replying. “No, I’m fine,” he answered, his voice a lot quieter than it had previously been. “I should probably go to sleep anyways, s’getting late. Sorry for bothering you again.”

Phil groaned and rolled his eyes. “Dakota, it’s only half eight. And you’re not bothering me. I just find it kind of monotonous to try and talk about these kind of things over the phone, as we never get anywhere with it. You know that.”

“I know, I just- I’m so fucking tired of this,” he whimpered. His voice broke in the middle of his sentence, and Phil frowned.

“I know, Kota, and I’m sorry. I’m being a bit of a twat, but I hate when you get upset. I don’t know how to help.” Phil walked over to his bed, throwing himself onto it with a loud sigh. He rolled over onto his stomach and put his phone on speaker, setting it on one of his pillows. 

“It’s okay, Phil. Just talking about it helps, really.”

“Then talk, Kota. I’ll listen, promise. I won’t even interrupt with mediocre advice,” Phil said, trying to lighten the conversation. He really couldn’t handle this after working a ten hour shift, but he’d live with it for Dakota. 

“Doubt it,” he breathed, giggling quietly. “And I will talk about it, I swear, but I really am getting tired. And I know you just got off of a really long shift, so you should probably sleep as well.”

“You sure?” Phil asked hesitantly. He hated leaving Dakota to his own devices when he was upset.

“Yeah, ‘m sure. Go tell Martyn and Cornelia about your day, or whatever it is you do when you’re not talking to me. Which isn’t very often, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Phil replied, yawning. He rubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his hands.

Dakota scoffed. “Whatever, my ass. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

Phil made an unintelligible sound of agreement. “Sounds good. Get some rest, yeah? And don’t hesitate to call if need be. You know I don’t mind how late it gets.”

“Don’t sign yourself up for things you can’t fulfill, Lester.”

\---

Things between Phil and Dakota stayed relatively the same when they weren’t focused on what was happening with Dan. Although the dynamic of their friendship had changed significantly over the past two years when being compared to what it was before then, they were still close and relied on one another for a lot. And despite all of the stress and horrible things that had happened since Dan had gone missing, the two were still able to joke around and be teenage boys occasionally (even if it didn’t last for long).

Like now, for example, as they sat in front of the tele in Phil’s room shoving one another off of the bed as they played Sonic. They were taking turns, and whoever died would pass the controller to the other person. It was a system they had used since before Dan had gone missing, and there were three of them. It was a lot less entertaining with just two, but it was a good distraction. 

“Fuck, this game is so fucking stupid!” Dakota huffed as the character on the TV got crushed against a wall. He practically chucked the controller at Phil, groaning as he threw himself back onto the bed. 

“You’re just saying that because you keep dying,” Phil said, smirking at the younger boy. “Thought you were supposed to be good at this game.”

Dakota kicked him and smiled at the shout of pain Phil let out. “Your mum,” he retorted, sticking his tongue out.

“The age gap, Dakota! It’s so small, but so noticeable! And so easy to gloat over,” Phil exclaimed. 

Dakota’s playful smile faltered, his mind reeling back to the day before Dan had gone missing. Phil had said almost the same thing to him and Dan that day, and the memory made the back of Dakota’s throat burn with emotion. “Yeah,” he mumbled, fighting back tears. 

Phil scrunched his eyebrows together at the lack of enthusiasm coming from Dakota, but the realization of what he’d said dawned on him when he looked back at the younger boy. He paused the game, setting the controller down on the ground. “Sorry.”

Dakota waved off his apology, forcing himself to smile. “‘S fine. I’m just being stupid, ‘s all.”

“You’re not, though,” Phil groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “I get the same way. It just… it kind of sucks. A lot.”

Dakota seemed to mull over something in his head for a bit before looking back up at Phil. “Yeah, it does. But we were having fun, and- and I feel bad for ruining that.”

Phil shook his head and gave the brunette an incredulous look. “Kota, you didn’t ruin anything. I’m the one who said it.”

“No, Phil, Jesus- I’m the one who’s about to fucking cry-”

“Dakota, it’s okay-”

“Just drop it, Phil!” he shouted, turning to the older boy with an angry look in his dark almond eyes. “If we’re really going to argue over this shit, it’s not worth it. Just- stop, okay? Stop trying to make me feel better about this whole thing, because it’s not- it won’t work! Drop it.”

Phil’s eyes were wide with shock as he stared at his best friend, but he only nodded. 

“Thank you,” Dakota breathed, tugging at his hair. “Now, can we please get back to the game?”


	4. three

When Dan was finally able to come home, Dakota had just assumed everything would go back to how it was before. The assumption was stupid, of course, and Dakota _knew_ that, but it still came as quite the shock when things definitely _weren’t_ the same. 

“Are you sure you want me to be here?” Phil whispered, staring down at the wooden pattern on the Howell’s dining table. It was the same table they’d had since Phil was five, but today it looked a little different. A little more dull. 

Dakota’s head shot up and his lower lip began to tremble. “Phil, please don’t leave. I- I need you here, please-”

Phil held up a hand, silencing his friend. He sent the curly-haired boy a comforting smile. “Just making sure.”

Kota nodded, dropping his chin back onto his arms that rested on the table. “Is it bad that I’m, like, scared?” he whispered. “I shouldn’t be scared. I should be happy. But- what if he’s upset that I didn’t visit him? I don’t want him to hate me.”

Phil frowned before scooting closer to Kota, placing a hand on his back. “He won’t hate you, Kota, you’re his brother. And you can’t take how he acts today as an example of how he’ll act forever. He’s probably still really shaken up, and most likely will be for a while. A lot happened. Besides, you heard your mum and dad. Dan didn’t really want any visitors, and even Elaine stayed relatively far away.” Phil rubbed Dakota’s back gently, grimacing at the tears that were welling up in his dark eyes.

“I just want everything to go back to how it was before, and I know- I know that’s stupid, but I just- I miss him, and-”

He was cut off by the sound of a car being locked, causing both boys to immediately turn their heads towards the front door. Through the window they could see Elaine’s black Ford Focus parked in the driveway, and three figures making their ways towards the door. 

Dakota took in a quick breath, his heart beginning to pound even faster than it was before. He gave Phil a panicked look as the front door was unlocked, his eyes wide and full of anxiety. 

“Kota, breathe, it’s okay,” Phil reminded him, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be better for everyone if we all stay as calm as we can.”

“Don’t leave,” Dakota pleaded quietly once more, grabbing onto Phil’s arm tightly.

“I won’t,” Phil whispered, shooting him a quick smile.

Dakota didn’t bother replying, instead training his gaze on the archway that led to the lounge and entryway. He sucked in a breath as Dan walked in, his mum and dad directly behind him. His mum was carrying a small duffle bag, and his dad was carrying the blanket that usually resided in their lounge, but had been taken to Dan his first week in the hospital. 

“Dan,” Dakota whimpered, his eyes wide as he observed his brother. In the back of his mind, he recognized why the doctor at the hospital commented on how they don’t look identical, but he pushed that aside for later. Dan was _right there_.

Dan shot his head up at the noise, not noticing the two other boys in the dining room until now. His eyes hardened a bit when he looked at Dakota, and they lingered on Phil for a few moments. He clenched his hands into fists at his side as he tore his gaze away, instead training it on the ground.

Elaine bit her lip as she watched the interaction. The disappointment was practically radiating off of her in waves, but no one other than Phil took notice of it. He frowned.

It was uncomfortably silent for a few moments. Everyone avoided eye contact with one another as tension that would soon become a permanent fixture in the house settled over every surface. 

Elaine cleared her throat.

Dan turned around then, facing his mum. He reached for the bag with trembling hands, holding onto it firmly once Elaine passed it over with no words. Dan sent a look towards the blanket still clutched in his father’s hands, but shook his head to himself. He sent one last timid glance over at Dakota and Phil before rushing to get away, stumbling over his slippers.

Everyone else was silent as Dan’s footsteps on the stairs echoed throughout the house.

\---

At first, it was like Dan wasn’t even back home. He spent a significant amount of time either locked in his bedroom, or at various health appointments that were held in a small building right across from the hospital. It was futile to try and interact with him during the first few weeks, as he spent most of his time at home asleep, and when he wasn’t asleep, he simply wouldn’t talk to anyone. He had shut the entire world out, and the people around him accepted it. 

Other than the extremely tense atmosphere that had blanketed the Howell’s home, everything was more or less back to how it was when Dan was gone. There were legal meetings added, along with more than two handfuls of therapy appointments each week (between both Dakota, Dan, and their parents) but nothing significant had really changed. In fact, Michael and Elaine weren’t particularly focused on Dan _or_ Dakota, too busy with court and marriage counseling to provide either boys with the proper attention they both needed.

This brought along some issues; issues that Dakota wasn’t willing to share with anyone but Phil, who had become more of a constant in the Howell’s house than he was before. Phil, who was the only one paying the slightest bit of attention to the boy who was currently sobbing in the room over.

“Shouldn’t you go check on him?” Phil asked Dakota, who was hunched over his computer doing his online classes. He had his glasses perched on the end of his nose as he stared intently at the computer, sighing as Phil’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“I don’t know how,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He drew a hand through his hair, biting his lip as he glanced towards his bedroom door. “Every time I’ve tried to talk to him he’s either started crying or ignored me completely. I don’t want to scare him.”

“He’s your brother, Kota, not a stray you found on the highway,” Phil said, raising an eyebrow at his friend. “You can’t let him think that he’s alone in this. Even if he doesn’t want anyone's help right now, it would probably still make him feel better if he knew someone was there for him.”

Dakota sighed, shutting his laptop and turning to face Phil. “I know, Phil, but it’s hard. I haven’t seen him in two years, and God knows what he went through. I don’t want to hurt him any more than he already is. You know I always say the wrong things.”

“That’s true,” Phil replied, giving Dakota a teasing smile.

“Shove off,” Dakota huffed, giving the older boy a glare. “I’m being serious. I don’t want him to hate me.”

Phil hummed in acknowledgment. He stood up from where he was perched on Dakota’s bed and began making his way over to the door.

Dakota furrowed his eyebrows and sat up in his chair. “Where are you going?”

“To check on Dan.”

Dakota spluttered, shaking his head. “No, Phil-”

Phil rolled his eyes, opening the door and stepping out. “Yes, Phil,” he replied, ignoring Dakota’s protests as he made his way over to Dan’s room. He knocked on the door gently, rolling his eyes as Dakota scrambled out of his room to follow.

“Dan? It’s Phil,” he said, projecting his voice so it could be heard over Dan’s cries.

Dakota’s eyes widened as the noises on the other side of the door stopped momentarily, and he ran up behind Phil to peek over his shoulder. 

Phil smiled at the minute acknowledgement, nudging Dakota before he spoke again. “Is everything alright-”

A loud bang against the door interrupted him, scaring both Phil and Dakota enough to send them back a few feet, stumbling against the wall in shock. It was clear Dan had thrown something at the door, and even if it hadn’t been obvious, his yell of “leave me alone!” that followed was confirmation enough.

Dakota and Phil stared at one another in surprise, not expecting a reaction of that sort from Dan. They’d both grown accustomed to the timid responses (or lack of a response), that it rendered them (well, mostly Dakota) speechless to receive anything but, especially when it was anger.

After a few moments of simply staring at one another in shock, Phil began to smile.

Dakota gave him a confused glare, shoving him back into his room. “Why are you smiling? That’s hardly something to be happy about!” he hissed, slamming his door shut behind them. 

Phil shrugged, throwing himself back onto Kota’s bed. “At least it’s not silence. Or crying,” he replied. 

“And how is _yelling_ any better?”

“Proves his barriers are starting to crack, if only a bit. Really Dakota, you should learn to read people. It might help you quite a bit with Dan,” Phil explained, raising an eyebrow at the brunette.

Kota scoffed. “Sorry I’m not a fucking psychopath, Phil.”

Phil laughed in response, shaking his head. “I’m just saying, Kota! This should make you happy! Even though Dan was mad, that’s better than him being completely void-y. I’m not saying that I love him yelling at us, but it’s something. A something I’d take over the silence any day.”

Dakota stared at Phil for a solid minute before shaking his head back and forth, his curls bouncing with the movement. “You’re mad.”

He shrugged again. “Probably. But at least I have hope about this whole situation."

“I do too!” Dakota chided, sending a childish pout at Phil.

Phil snorted. “Yeah right.”

“Fuck off, you dick,” Dakota huffed. “Are you done playing hero, yet? You promised we could watch a movie if I finished my work. And I did.”

“Raincheck? I’ve got an early shift tomorrow, and I promised Cornelia I’d help with housework tonight.”

Dakota sent him an unimpressed glare, but sighed. “I guess. But I’m holding you to it. We haven’t had movie night in ages.”

“Cross my heart,” Phil replied, gathering his things. He shrugged on his jacket once his backpack was organized, shooting Kota a smile.

Dakota rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the fond grin that made its way onto his face.

\---

As it happened, they didn’t end up having movie night. Instead, they were back to discussing Dan, which seemed to be the only topic anyone could bring up as of late. And, really, it was putting quite the strain on Dakota and Phil’s friendship.

“It’s a bit odd, don’t you think?”

“How do you mean?”

Dakota sighed, shuffling back on Phil’s bed and crossing his legs. “Just, like, how well Dan’s dealing with things? I don’t know, but it’s been bothering me a lot, like- he’s not as… panicked as I thought he’d be? Which I guess is like, a good thing, or- or whatever, but… that’s not- that’s not Dan, you know?”

Phil furrowed his eyebrows, shaking his head in confusion. “I can’t say I do, actually,” he replied, a bit of a bite in his words. “I don’t think you should just _assume_ that there’s a certain way he should be coping. As far as you know, he’s coping just as well as any other _kidnapping victim_ should be.”

“Phil,” Dakota muttered, bringing his pointer fingers up to his temples. “You know that’s not how I meant it, c’mon.”

“How did you mean it then, Dakota? Because I certainly don’t understand how him locking himself in his room for days on end and not eating anything, or not talking to anyone, or hiding every single time someone tries to comfort him is him dealing with it ‘well’,” Phil snapped, thrusting a hand through his greasy hair. 

“That’s exactly what I mean, Phil! That’s all he’s doing, just sleeping and ignoring everyone- he should be, like, yelling and he should be angry and- and panicky because that’s just _how Dan is!_ Dan doesn’t hide, or- or stay silent when he’s upset! He screams and yells and _cries_ for fucks sake! You heard what he said to us the other day when you tried to talk to him! Why is he back to ignoring everyone? _I’m_ the one who hides, _I’m_ the one who bottles things up until I snap, not him! ”

Phil glared at Dakota, shaking his head in annoyance. “And how would you know, Dakota? Tell me how you would know how Dan acts when he’s upset, because I’d love to hear.”

“I’ve been around him his entire life, so I’d like to fucking think I know him well enough,” Dakota growled, training his eyes daringly on Phil’s. 

“But you don’t! You don’t know him, Dakota! The boy who holds himself up in his room and doesn’t speak to anyone _isn’t_ the Dan you know. He’s not the same person he was when we were fifteen; he’s not the same Dan who yells and cries when he gets his phone taken away, or the Dan who throws fits when he loses at a video game! This- what he went through, and how he acts- this isn’t one of his _fits_ , Dakota!”

“Oh, and you’re suddenly an expert on all things Dan? Just because of what? Because you found him? That’s bullshit, Phil, and you know it!”

Phil scoffed, looking at the other boy in disbelief. “Maybe because I actually pay attention to him, how about? I actually pay attention to him when he doesn’t sleep, when he sits up at night having panic attacks, when he-”

“Everything alright in here?”

Both boys looked over at the door, where Martyns girlfriend stood with a concerned look on her doll-like face. She raised an eyebrow at the two teenager’s glances, propping a hand on her hip. 

“It’s fine, Cornelia,” Phil huffed, sending her a painful smile. 

“Doesn’t sound like it’s fine. Even Martyn’s concerned,” she replied, glancing between the two calculatingly. 

“He’s always concerned,” Phil mumbled, rolling his eyes. He picked at a loose thread on his duvet, avoiding Cornelia’s gaze. 

“If you insist,” she said, disbelief clouding her voice. She gave the two one more pointed look before sighing, turning her attention to Dakota. “Your mum called. She needs someone at the house to look after Dan. Her and your dad got called in for something with the court.”

“Of course they did,” Dakota mumbled, getting up off of Phil’s bed and grabbing his backpack from where it rested against the desk.

Cornelia shot Phil a confused look. He dismissed it with a shake of his head.

“Alright,” she exclaimed, backing out of the room. “I’ll see you soon, Dakota. Wish Dan well for me, yeah?”

The brunette made a vague noise of affirmation, slipping his feet into his shoes. “See you.” 

Cornelia left the room with one final smile on her face, giving Dakota a curt nod in which he returned.

“We’re not finished talking about this, you know,” Phil said, giving the other boy a pointed look. 

“No, I think we’re well done, mate,” Dakota replied matter-of-factly. “I mean, I know everything I need to know, and apparently so do you.”

“Oh, c’mon Dakota! Don’t be like this!” 

Dakota scoffed, striding towards the door. He flipped Phil off as he walked out, not even saying goodbye. 

\---

Over the next few weeks, Dan had started to be more vocal. It wasn’t that he didn’t still hide in his room for days on end, because he _definitely_ still did, but the anger he had shown Dakota and Phil those few days ago had started to make a reappearance. Mostly it was aimed towards Dakota whenever he would try to speak to Dan in private, but there were a few times in which their parents were around to witness it.

It was just a bit inconvenient that it happened during the first time Dan had decided to join the rest of the family for dinner.

“Stop _staring_ at me,” Dan snapped, his icy gaze not quite meeting Dakota’s eyes, but still pointed towards him. His hand flitted up to the left side of his face, his fingers grazing over the indentation that his scar had left. He knew it was what his brother was looking at, and that made him feel queasy. 

Dakota, Elaine, and Michael all looked at him in surprise, their jaws dropping almost comically. 

“I-” Dakota started, but cut himself off as Dan sent him another glare.

Elaine looked between the two curiously, her gaze landing on Dan. “Now, Daniel, don’t yell at Dakota-”

“Mum,” Dakota said, shooting her a pointed look. “It’s fine. My bad.”

Elaine shook her head in confusion, her fork poised in the air. “What do-”

Dan dropped his utensils onto his plate and they landed with a loud _clang_. He pushed back his chair and hurriedly stood up. “I’m not hungry,” he mumbled, a panicked tone clouding his voice. His hands were trembling at his sides, and although it was clear he was ready to bolt from the room, he waited to be dismissed.

He’d never done so before.

Elaine took notice of this and nodded her head, gesturing to the stairs with her fork. “That’s fine, love.”

He was out of the room in a matter of seconds, and his door slammed soon after.

The three remaining Howell’s sat silently for a minutes, their forks scraping against their plates loudly. Dakota was the first to break the tension, clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset him,” he apologized, not looking up from his plate. 

“He’s just sensitive, Kota, that’s all,” Michael replied, patting his son on the shoulder awkwardly. 

“He’s probably just having a rough day,” Elaine added, her voice reassuring. 

Dakota sighed, shaking his head at his parents words. “Everyday is rough for him, mum. Not just today.”

\---

Dakota and Phil managed to make up, despite the fact that there was still a clear tension whenever Dan was brought up. They’d yet to finish their conversation that had caused the argument, although both of them knew it probably wouldn’t happen. They’d both been particularly stressed as of late, and they needed each other to be there for one another. 

They couldn’t do that if they were fighting, so Phil finally gave in to movie night. 

It had turned out to be pretty successful, and they’d managed to knock out three films they’d been wanting to watch together for ages. They could’ve watched more, as the night was still young, but after the third one had ended they decided to just lay on Dakota’s bed and talk (and by talk, they meant nap on and off).

“Kota,” Phil whispered, prodding the boy’s shoulder gently. “I’m going to get a glass of water, want anything?”

“Check on Dan?” he mumbled groggily, turning over on the mattress to face Phil. His dark brown eyes were filled with exhaustion (not that Phil could blame him, as his probably were in a similar condition) and they just looked so sad, as if it physically hurt him to have to ask. 

“Of course,” Phil replied, patting Kota’s arm gently. He clumsily rolled off of the bed, barely managing to land on his feet. He grabbed his cellphone and turned on the torch, making his way through Dakota’s messy room blindly.

Once he made it over the wasteland of clothes and miscellaneous wrappers, Phil opened Dakota’s door quietly, not wanting to wake anyone. It was only half ten, but everyone in the Howell’s house had been so exhausted as of late, and were probably all asleep. 

Or not, Phil thought, as he noticed the door right across from Dakota’s was wide open, the room behind it empty.

Phil frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Dan never really left his room, not at night, at least, when all of the lights were out. He’d always been afraid of the dark, even before what had happened. Phil’s stomach turned a bit with worry as he began making his way down the stairs.

“Dan? You down here?” Phil said, raising his voice so it would project throughout the bottom floor. He heard a few bangs from the kitchen, so he made his way through the dining room and into said room. 

He saw Dan as soon as he entered the room, and the sight made his heart ache. He swore quietly before speaking again. “Dan, what’s going on?”

The curly haired boy shot his head up, his eyes wide and afraid. His hands, one of which was stuck inside the junk drawer, and the other clawing at his wrist, froze. Immediately tears began to run down his cheeks, dripping onto his shirt. A choked noise left his throat, presumably an attempt at some sort of apology, but it was incoherent.

Phil took a hesitant step forward, making sure to keep his hands up in Dan’s view. The younger boy didn’t flinch, so Phil took that as a go. Slowly, he made his way around the counter, giving Dan a comforting smile all the while.

The almost empty glaze that coated Dan’s dark brown eyes was scary. It was as if he held no emotions, yet every emotion at the same time. It made Phil’s stomach twist into knots that he quickly pushed aside.

Dan’s eyes were wide as he started directly at Phil with a terrified expression. He felt himself tense up with each step the older boy took, and it took every ounce of energy that his body possessed to not run away. His right hand, which was still stuffed inside of the drawer, wrapped around a small plastic box of blades as inconspicuously as he could. Dan brought his other hand up to his face to distract Phil as he slid the box into the pocket of his sweatpants. It worked well enough, as Phil’s stayed trained on his face.

“Is everything okay?” Phil asked softly, and it made Dan almost feel guilty about what he was doing. Almost.

Dan’s breath hitched as more tears welled up in his eyes against his will. It hurt, how kind Phil was. Dan didn’t deserve it, but he knew he’d continue to take advantage of it; it was so nice, having someone who cared. He shook his head, curling his lower lip into his mouth. The fist that was still in his pocket tightened, the sharp edges of the box stabbing into his palm.

Frowning, Phil opened up his arms invitingly. He could feel his own eyes burning as he took in the sight in front of him. Dan’s wrist was an angry red shade from his nails, his entire body was trembling, and he look like he was about to pass out right where he stood. He was probably dead tired, as well; as far as Phil knew, he hadn’t really been sleeping too well lately, at least from what Dakota had said.

It really shouldn’t have taken Dan as long as it had to accept Phil’s offer of a hug. He’d been craving positive affection for months, hell, _years;_ after spending every single day for two years straight being treated with passive aggressive touches and manipulation, Dan just wanted to be held. His crippling fear of being touched overwhelmed that want most of the time, though, so it wasn’t really surprising that Dan stared at Phil for almost three minutes straight before crumbling.

A guttural sob escaped Dan’s throat before he flung himself at Phil, shoving himself completely against the boy who had held him this tightly only a couple of months beforehand. After ensuring the box of blades was shoved deep in his pocket, he brought both of his arms up and wrapped them around Phil, holding onto him like a lifeline. He gripped the back of Phil’s shirt with his bony fingers, twisting the fabric around them so he stayed _right there_.

Phil threaded his fingers through Dan’s hair, nuzzling his face into the fluffy curls. They were still a bit damp from the shower Dan had presumably taken that night, and the smell of strawberries flooded Phil’s senses. It was the same smell Dakota had, but for an unknown reason it was more pleasant on Dan. 

Much like the entire situation, disregarding the obvious negatives. Phil had always liked hugging Dan more than Dakota, as the former always had a bit more chub, but now it was like hugging a sack of bones. Somehow, though, that didn’t change the warm feeling that flooded Phil stomach as Dan rubbed his head against Phil’s chest. It was like they were fifteen again, except- 

Except it wasn’t. At all. And Dan’s raspy sobs and paper thin skin wrapped tightly around his bones made sure to remind Phil of that.


	5. four

After the incident in the kitchen, Dan had become surprisingly comfortable with Phil. It was a bit like someone had flipped a switch in his brain, one that told him Phil wasn’t going to hurt him. One that told him he could _trust_ Phil, even, which was saying quite a lot.

Of course, he was obviously still extensively reserved, but when he needed someone and Phil was there, he immediately went to him. Especially on the bad days.

-

Phil nearly had a panic attack when he looked up from the tele in the Howell’s lounge to find Dan in the entryway, holding a pair of scissors in his trembling hands. The feeling intensified when he saw the look on the curly-haired boys face, taking note of the tear tracks and red splotches that made his scar look even more prominent than usual.

“Woah, what’s-” Phil started, but Dan cut him off.

“Cut my hair,” he pleaded, his voice full of panic and defeat. He held out the scissors towards Phil, who was now more confused than he was worried (although he was definitely still very, very worried).

“What- Dan, I can’t-”

“Please, Phil. I don’t- I can’t l- look at it, _please_ ,” Dan begged. There was another wave of tears that was threatening to spill, and it was clear this was something very important to Dan.

Phil looked at the brunettes hair, not entirely understanding what was wrong with it. It was a little on the long side, the ringlets falling past his ears and brushing his jaw in some places, but it wasn’t nearly as long as it had been when Phil had found him. 

Dan took Phil’s silence as him saying no, and his shoulders slumped down sadly. “If you don’t do it, I will,” he whispered, his chapped lower lip trembling. 

Phil shook his head, standing up and making his way over to the younger boy slowly. “I’ll do it,” he reassured, carefully prying the scissors out of Dan’s tight grip. “I can’t promise that it’ll look good, though,” he said, trying to make Dan feel a bit better.

Dan didn’t laugh.

“I don’t care,” Dan cried, reaching up and gripping the locks tightly with one hand. More tears flooded his eyes as he hesitantly grabbed Phil’s arm, pulling him towards the downstairs bathroom. He shoved the door open forcefully, too focused on the task at hand to even flinch as it banged against the wall loudly.

Phil, on the other hand, definitely flinched. Although, it was more because of Dan’s actions and less because of the noise. He stumbled as Dan pushed him in the bathroom, planting his feet in front of the mirror and spinning to face Phil.

His eyes were bloodshot and full of desperation as his lower lip trembled. “Please.” 

Nodding, Phil gently placed his hands on Dan’s shoulders, spinning him around to face the mirror. He let out a deep breath before lifting the scissors closer to Dan’s head, grabbing a loose curl with his other hand. “How short?” he asked quietly, gently pulling the strand straight.

A tear slipped down his cheek and he closed his eyes tightly. “Short,” he whispered, the tone of his voice broken and pitiful.

Instead of answering, Phil quickly snipped the first lock off. The hair was oddly thin and feathery, the complete opposite of the thick curls Dan used to have. Phil didn’t dwell on it.

Dan watched Phil closely, his eyes trained on the mirror. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides, full of tension, but his shoulders sagged briefly when the hair fell to the ground. 

The same thing went on for a few minutes: Phil delicately picking a chunk of Dan’s hair, snipping it about two inches up, and moving on. It went by relatively fast, as Dan’s hair was significantly thinner than it actually looked, and he even had a few bald patches. The sight made Phil grimace, but it was pointless to try and fix it.

With each snip of hair, Dan felt more weight lift off of his shoulders. He was stuck in a bit of a trance while watching the curls fall onto the linoleum tile, the sound of the scissors cutting through his hair almost calming. It was one aspect of his appearance that he could control, which was something he was beyond grateful for. 

“Need to do the front,” Phil said, giving Dan’s shoulder a soft push. He offered a small smile when Dan’s gaze broke away from his own reflection in the mirror, his almond eyes pooling into Phil’s cerulean ones.

Dan cleared his throat and nodded, turning away from the mirror. He leaned against the counter as Phil stood over him, and was shocked to find that he didn’t feel trapped. “Thank you,” Dan mumbled, watching Phil’s face intently as the older boy concentrated. 

Phil’s lips upturned a little, his eyes flickering down to Dan’s before refocusing on the task at hand. “Of course, Danny,” he said, not taking notice of the old nickname that slipped. He simply gave Dan a confused look when he froze up, placing his pointer finger on the younger boy’s nose soothingly. 

The action caused Dan’s mouth to open in a slight ‘o’ shape. His eyes burned with more unshed tears, but this time it wasn’t because he was having negative memories flood his mind. Instead, memories of him and Phil (and Dakota) when they were younger washed through his head, almost entirely diminishing the bad thoughts.

He got so engrossed in the flood of memories that he’d previously forgotten, that he didn’t hear Phil the first couple of times he called his name once he finished cutting his hair. He was brought out of his head when the older boy shook his shoulder, a concerned look painted on his soft face.

“Everything alright?” 

Dan inhaled deeply, nodding his head assuredly. “Yeah- yes. Yes,” he stuttered, making proper eye contact with Phil. “I’m good, really good,” he choked out. “Thank you, s- so much, Phil, I-” he cut himself off, reaching a trembling hand up and placing his pointer finger on Phil’s nose.

Phil smiled wide, reaching behind him to set the scissors down. “Don’t thank me,” he whispered, pulling the now short-haired brunette into a hug. 

Dan hoped the tears falling on his back weren’t sad ones. 

\---

“God, Phil, I really don’t want to have this conversation again.”

Phil rolled his eyes at Dakota, groaning in frustration. “You can’t just ignore it, Dakota. He’s-”

“‘He’s your brother!’ Jesus Christ, Philip, I fucking _know that!_ You only tell me every single day, not to mention I’ve lived with him for most of my life!”

“He made me _cut his hair_ yesterday, Dakota! That’s not okay! He needs help, and you guys clearly aren’t providing it here!”

Dakota clenched his jaw, shoving Phil forward. “He doesn’t _want_ our help, Phil! Why can’t you see that?”

Phil took in a deep breath, rubbing his temples with his thumbs. He decided to ignore the shove, as Dakota was already in an extremely pissy mood, but that was it. Everything else Dakota was spewing was bullshit, and Phil would’ve probably actually scream at the brunette if he didn’t possess any decency. “You don’t get it, Dakota. You just- you aren’t listening to what I’m trying to tell you, and that’s- that’s shitty! I’m trying to help you get your brother back, but you just-”

“And maybe _I_ don’t want your help, Phil! Did you ever think of that?” Dakota spat, training a deathly glare on the other boy. He raised an eyebrow, challenging Phil to fight back.

He didn’t. 

The black-haired teen gave Dakota a calculating look before shaking his head. “Fine,” he said, his voice flat. He walked towards the door, leaning down to pick up his shoes and backpack. 

Dakota’s confidence fell flat, shock coursing through his body. He gaped at Phil, watching with wide eyes as he gathered his things and opened the door. 

“Give me a call when you actually want to talk. I don't particularly like being yelled at,” Phil said, sending the other boy one last pointed look before leaving. 

As the door slammed, Dakota continued to stare blankly. In the eleven years that Dakota had known Phil, he hadn’t walked out on him. _Ever._ Not even when he’d taken Phil’s only copy of Mario Kart in year eight and _lost_ it had he walked out. 

It hurt, almost too much. He would’ve taken pushes and punches over this any day.

\---

Phil knocked lightly on the Howell’s door a week later, shifting back and forth on his feet anxiously. He didn’t know why he was so nervous; he’d been to the Howell’s house hundreds, hell, _thousands_ of times. There were multiple points in his and Dakota's (and Dan’s, before, well… _what happened_ ) friendship where he didn’t leave their house for multiple days at a time. Phil had no reason to be nervous, but he wasn’t stupid. He had noticed as soon as he pulled in the driveway that Dakota’s car was missing from the lot, and even though he knew he was always welcome to visit, regardless of whether or not the twins were home, Phil felt like he was intruding. 

Nonetheless, Phil was still relieved when Elaine opened the door and gave him a familiar, comforting smile.

“Phil, dear! It’s so nice to see you! It’s been so hectic around here lately, we hardly get to visit when you come ‘round,” she beamed, opening her arms up for a hug.

Phil smiled back, a bit of guilt flooding his stomach at the sight of her heavy, dark under eye bags. He awkwardly welcomed the woman’s hug, patting her back briefly before stepping out of her thin arms. “It’s good to see you as well, Elaine.”

“Well, come in, come in. Don’t want you freezing the death out here,” she fretted, ushering the teenager into the comforts of the warm home. “Dakota isn’t around right now, but I’m sure he’ll be back in the next hour or two.”

Phil kicked his shoes off by the mat and hung his coat up on the rack, waving his hand dismissively at Elaine. “That’s alright. I just wanted to stop by, really. Where is he anyway?”

Elaine beckoned Phil into the kitchen that was right off of the entry hallway before replying, leaning against the counter next to the stove. “He’s at therapy, actually.”

Phil’s eyebrows immediately shot up, surprise painting itself all over his face. “Oh? That’s… odd. Good, but, well- yeah, um- wow,” Phil stuttered, blushing as Elaine chuckled.

“You’re just as shocked as I was, honest. He hasn’t left the house in days, other than going over to yours,” Elaine said, her tone a bit off. She frowned momentarily before shaking it off, looking back up at Phil and smiling. “Speaking of yours, how’s living with Martyn and Cornelia? I’m sure you miss your parents.”

Phil sighed, joining Elaine in leaning against the counter. “It’s going as well as it should be, I suppose. I miss them, but they sound much happier now that they’re back up North. They missed it a lot. And I’m glad I stayed, you know? For Dakota, and school. And Dan, now.”

Elaine nodded in response, giving Phil what he could only describe as a motherly look. “So long as you’re happy. I presume you and your brother get on just fine, then?”

“Yeah, of course, Martyn- he’s good, y’know? It was really nice of him to let me intrude on his and Cornelia’s life, because I guess- I mean, that’s what I did, really,” Phil said, shrugging but smiling softly nonetheless. 

“I’m sure he doesn’t see it that way, Phil,” Elaine replied, raising an eyebrow at the teenager. She sighed when Phil only shrugged again, turning around to sort things on the counter. “Would you like to stay for lunch? Michael and I are leaving later this afternoon, so I figured I’d whip something up right now so we could still have a meal together.” 

“That’d be lovely-”

“Mum?” came a quiet voice from behind Phil, interrupting him. 

Elaine’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but she was quick to gather herself. She looked over Phil’s shoulder, making sure to place a gentle smile on her face. “Dan, alright?” she asked softly.

His face flushed a dark shade of red when he caught sight of Phil, but he chose to ignore the older boy. “Yeah, um- I, uh, couldn’t- couldn’t sleep last night, and- and I’m really tired, so…”

Elaine seemed to understand what he was asking, as she nodded her head and made her way to the medicine cabinet. It had a lock on it (the first effort Phil had seen the Howell’s make to ensure Dan’s safety) that Elaine spun the code into quickly, as if she’d had practice. She then pulled a small bottle of pills out that Phil recognized as melatonin tablets.

She dumped out two into her palm before closing the bottle and placing it back, locking the cabinet back up. “Do you have water, love?” she asked, walking back towards the counter and setting the tablets down, pushing them towards Dan.

He nodded, waiting for her to retreat back to the opposite side of the kitchen before going to collect the pills. His fingers shook as he grabbed them off of the counter, and Phil winced as he dropped them twice before securing them. The blush that was painted over his cheeks deepened.

“Dan?”

Dan looked up, his eyes wide with embarrassment. He mumbled an incoherent sound that he used as a response, avoiding direct eye contact with his mum.

“Would you like to eat lunch with us before you nap?” Elaine asked, the pleading tone in her voice blatantly obvious. It was a bit pitiful, really.

Phil glanced between the two, frowning at the look of fear that Dan was trying so desperately to hide. He wished desperately that the brunette would nod, but it was clear that Dan would actually rather do anything other than eat lunch with them. If that wasn’t obvious from the look on his face, the shake of his head clarified. 

Elaine’s shoulders fell, but she tried her best to hide her disappointment.

“I- I’m sorry, mum- I’m really tired, and-”

“It’s quite alright, Dan. Run along, now,” Elaine said. She tried to offer him a smile, but it ended up looking more like a pained grimace. 

Dan practically ran out of the room, his fist that carried his pills clenched at his side. He didn’t even bother to say goodbye, but it wasn’t that much of a surprise.

Phil sighed as the sound of Dan slamming his door echoed through the house. 

“I’m sorry, Phil. I know you hate seeing him like this just as much as we do,” Elaine murmured, leaning against the counter. “I don’t know how to help him.”

Phil shrugged, staring down at his socks. “‘S okay. He can’t help how he feels, and neither can you lot.”

Elaine didn’t reply. They were silent for a few minutes, awkwardly scuffing their feet against the tile and twiddling their thumbs before Michael entered the room. He gave the pair a confused glance, but brushed their odd attitudes off quickly.

“Hello, Phil. Alright, you two?” he queried, making his way further into the kitchen.

Phil and Elaine nodded, clearing their throats and standing up straight.

“We were just about to eat,” Elaine affirmed, brushing off her trousers. “Phil, would you mind setting the table?” 

“Of course not,” he answered.


	6. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: explicit self harm scene, as well as generally heavy topics. be careful x

They’d left him alone again. Even Dakota was gone.

It wasn’t like it was uncommon; Dan had found himself alone in their too big house multiple times in the past two months, but someone had always made sure to tell him when they were leaving. They’d never just _left_ before.

He’d awoken from an early afternoon nap, making his way downstairs as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He had actually been in a rather good mood considering, as he’d had a relatively peaceful sleep, and was hoping to do something about the gnawing in his stomach for once. The decision quickly changed, though, as his mood did a complete one-eighty the minute he realized he was home alone. 

Abandoned. 

Instead of grabbing a small snack that his stomach could handle, he turned right back around and fled up the stairs, desperately trying to ignore the all too familiar and incessant feeling of tears behind his eyes. It was a stupid thing to get upset over, and maybe Dan would’ve realize that if he took a minute to stop and think, but that ability had been taken along with his innocence. 

After he bolted back into his room, he made sure to shut the door firmly and lock it before he fell to his knees by his bed, lifting up the sheet that hung over the side of the bed frame and reaching blindly underneath. His fingers wrapped around a small plastic box and he pulled it out, setting the package of blades on the ground next to him. 

Dan turned around, leaning against his bed and pulling his knees up to his chest. With his cold fingers, he drew the sleeve on his right arm up past his elbow, revealing an array of thin, angry red and purple lines that he’d been hiding for weeks, as well as faded white ones that had been there for a couple of years. It almost drew a laugh out of his fluttering chest when his tears began falling on the rippled skin.

The urge hit him forcefully as he stared at his wrist, causing his skin to itch and burn while he fumbled for the box. His trembling hands popped the top off, cold fingertips running against equally as cold razors. He clumsily pulled a new one out of its slot, the edge nicking the pad on his thumb. Dan didn’t feel it. 

He was mindless as he drew the sharp edge over the delicate skin that stretched tight over his bones. Tears continued to drip off of his face, mixing with the blood that trickled down his arm with each cut. It was odd, the lack of thoughts drifting through his mind as he sliced his own skin open; usually he’d end up in this position because of a particularly bad nightmare, causing memory after memory of _him_ to course through his mind during the entire episode. Memories of how _he_ used to do this to Dan as well, in the beginning. 

There wasn’t enough pain this time. The light pressure that barely sunk into his wrist didn’t help to ease the unbearable emotions coursing through his veins, and Dan didn’t even notice as he began to sink the blade in further with each swipe. 

Before long, Dan was a mess of tears and his own blood. There were an additional thirteen deep horizontal lines along the expanse of his right arm, and exhaustion washed over him because of the loss of blood. The burst of adrenaline that had taken over his body completely fizzled out, and he was left sprawled across his bedroom floor in an odd haze, wondering how he’d gotten there. His eyes flickered over the white walls, black dots speckling the ceiling dully.

Dan fell asleep in that position, his bloody arm spread out across his floor and the now dirty razor somewhere in the shaggy, dark brown carpet. It wasn’t the most ergonomic, but it wasn’t as if that mattered too much. 

And it wasn’t as if _he_ mattered that much, either, as when he woke up three hours later with a massive headache and dried blood all over his body, no one was home.

\---

A few days later, Phil was sat across from Dan on his bedroom floor. Dan was threading his fingers through the brown carpet over and over, staring blankly down at his hands. A hoodie that Phil had left in Dakota’s room a few weeks ago had ended up in Dan’s wash and was hanging on his thin body, the fabric bunching up around his hips.

“Dan,” Phil said quietly, watching as the brunettes hands stuttered briefly. 

“Hm?” he replied, not looking up. 

“What’re you thinking about?”

Dan bit his lip, his grip on the carpet tightening. His head, which was resting on his knees, tilted further down. “Don’t wanna talk about it,” he mumbled, bringing his arms up to wrap around his legs. His nails dug into the flesh of his calves.

Phil scooted closer, only keeping an inch of space between their legs. “Dan,” he murmured again, resting a hand on one of Dan’s knees.

“Don’t,” Dan croaked, wiggling his leg away from the older boy. “I- I don’t like- I don’t like that.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Phil replied quickly, removing his hand and scooting back a little.

“Don’t like that,” Dan repeated, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “I don’t.”

Phil frowned, reaching over to touch Dan’s nose. “Hey, sh, that’s okay. I’m sorry,” Phil whispered, stroking the bump that sat on the bridge of his nose. 

“S’okay,” Dan breathed, tightening his arms around his legs. He opened his eyes and finally looked at Phil, his bottom lip quivering. “I- I just- I don’t,” he whispered, voice strung with unshed tears.

“You don’t like it. Dan, that’s okay. It’s not your fault,” Phil replied, moving his hand back down to his side. 

Dan shook his head at Phil. “It is my fault,” he choked, tears springing from his watery eyes. “It’s all my fault.”

Phil furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “No, it’s not. None of this was your fault, Danny,” Phil murmured. “How could you think any of this was your fault?” 

Dan looked away from Phil, his eyes fixating on the patch of carpet between them. His nails dug even further into his legs, threatening to break the thin skin. “I think- I think I l- wanted it,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I wanted it, but now- now I don’t, and I don’t- I don’t get it.”

“What do you mean you wanted it, Dan?” Phil asked, dread settling in his stomach. “What did you want?”

He stayed silent, tremors running through his body every so often. His jaw was clenched, teeth grinding together painfully. Not that he could really tell.

“Dan,” Phil repeated, “what did you want?”

Dan look up at Phil briefly, his bottom lip trembling. More tears leaked out of his bloodshot eyes, dripping down and soaking into the material of his pyjama shorts. He flicked his eyes back down to the floor. “I wanted it when- when _he_ would t- touch me. _He_ told me- told me that… that I liked it,” he whimpered, reaching his hands up into his hair. His fingers curled around the locks, tugging on the stands harshly. 

“Oh, Dan,” Phil mumbled, tears of his own welling up behind his eyes.

“ _He_ told me-” Dan started weakly, quietly, but a guttural sob cut him off. He leaned further into his legs, tugging harder on his hair. “I- I- I like- liked it,” he sobbed, shaking his head back and forth quickly. “ _He_ t- told me, I got- got _hard_ , so I _wanted_ it-”

Phil sat up on his knees, reaching over to grab Dan’s shoulders gently. “Hey, Dan, c’mon, you’re okay,” he said, pulling the younger boy towards him slowly. “Sh, you’re fine, c’mere.”

Surprisingly, Dan fell into the older boy’s arms willingly, letting go of his hair to wrap his arms tightly around Phil. He shoved his face in the space between Phil’s shoulder and head, letting out cries into the juncture. His nails dug into Phil’s back painfully, but they both ignored it. 

“Shh, you’re safe, promise,” Phil whispered into Dan’s curls. He rubbed the other’s back in small motions, making sure to stay up high. “ _He_ was lying, Dan. You can’t help that, alright? It doesn’t mean you wanted it,” Phil reassured quietly. 

“ _He_ said if- if I didn’t want it, I would- wouldn’t get h- hard. I- I wanted it, Phil,” Dan repeated, persistence present in his raspy voice. “And- and I _liked_ it, because I c-”

“No, hey, no,” Phil said hurriedly, pulling back from Dan and tilting his chin up. He looked between Dan’s watery eyes, frowning. “Don’t say that. You didn’t want it, Dan, your body just- it just doesn’t know any better, okay? What that man did to you, it wasn’t okay, and just because your body was reacting how it thinks it should doesn’t mean you liked it. What matters,” Phil said, tapping Dan’s head, “is what you felt up here. Did you want it up here? Did you like it up here?”

Dan shook his head slowly. He searched Phil’s eyes for dishonesty, not finding a trace. “I didn’t- didn’t want it- didn’t like it up there,” he whispered, a sob cutting through his words.

“Exactly,” Phil said, touching Dan’s nose. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t want it.”

Dan continued to stare at Phil for a few more minutes as he tried to calm himself down, tears still dripping down his face as he sniffled. His hands dropped down to his sides, twitching with nerves. He flickered his gaze around the room, before training it back onto the ground. He leaned away from the other boy, moving his arms around his legs again.

“My knees hurt,” he whispered. 

Phil furrowed his eyebrows, sitting back and letting his hand drop to his side as well. “Right now?”

Dan shook his head, then nodded, reaching a hand up to wipe at his face. “Yes, but- also, like all of the time. They- the doctors said they’d always hurt,” he croaked. “I don’t want that.”

“But it’s not your fault,” Phil murmured. “None of this was your fault.”

More incessant tears burned behind Dan’s eyes. He pushed them away. “Right,” Dan whispered. 

He wished he could believe that.

\---

“Hey, Phil. Whatcha watching?” 

Phil looked up at Cornelia briefly before turning his focus back to the television, wiping at his wet eyes. He waved a hand at her, shaking his head. “Stupid movie. I’ve got time to kill before work, so…” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders.

Cornelia hummed, moving around the couch and settling herself on the arm of the sofa. “Must not be that stupid if it’s making you cry,” she said pointedly.

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Phil replied.

“Fine, but don’t think I won’t bring it up later.”

“Fine, but don’t think I’ll answer then either,” he shot back. “Was there something you wanted?”

“I’m surprised you aren’t over at the Howell’s. It’s been a while,” she said, ignoring his question and cocking her head at Phil. She raised her eyebrows, a silent gesture that said ‘we need to chat’, and nodded her head towards the television.

Phil sighed, grabbing the remote and muting the movie. He turned his body to face Cornelia’s, crossing his arms defensively. “What?” he huffed.

“Martyn and I are just worried, Phil. You’ve been quieter than usual, and haven’t mentioned Dakota or Dan once. You’re also crying, but I’m not supposed to mention that right now.”

Phil groaned in reply, throwing himself back against the couch. “I already talked to Martyn about this. Did he not tell you?”

Cornelia ran a hand through her short curls, giving Phil a small smile. “Of course he did, but I want to hear it from you.”

“You sound like my mum. I thought I got rid of that when I moved in with you guys,” Phil complained, his voice whiny.

“I was thinking more along the lines of older sister, but mum works as well. Kath is a lovely woman,” she replied, grinning at the teen as she nudged his foot with her own. 

Phil rolled his eyes, kicking Cornelia gently. “Really, I’m okay. Dakota and I just had a bit of a disagreement, is all.”

“And that’s exactly what Martyn said, but for some odd reason I think there’s a bit more to the story.”

He was silent for a moment, twiddling his thumbs while he thought through what he should say. It was obvious Cornelia wouldn’t leave without an explanation, and it was pointless to lie. She could read him almost as well as Dakota could, having been around Phil since he was young. Eventually he simply huffed out another sigh, sinking further into the sofa. 

“Dakota got upset with me because Dan actually… talks to me, I guess. Which he doesn’t, really, mostly he just sits a few feet away from me with this blank stare on his face, but he has opened up a few times. I get it, why Kota’s upset. He just wants his brother back; he has for two years, but he doesn’t understand that Dan isn’t anywhere near the same person he was two years ago. He gets mad because I tell him to be patient, to be considerate of how Dan as a victim feels, but he just- he doesn’t get it.”

Cornelia frowned, her eyes sad. “That’s a hard situation, for the both of you, but you have to take into consideration how hard this whole thing has affected Dakota.”

“I know. I’ve tried, and it doesn’t help,” he sighed, shrugging. “And- and I feel bad, because I walked out on him early last week, but I’m so sick of arguing with him. He’s supposed to be my best friend.”

Cornelia rubbed his shoulder comfortingly, offering a reassuring smile. “Sometimes you just need space. You’ll figure it out, love. Promise. You always do.”

“I really hope so,” Phil mumbled. 

The two sat silently for a few minutes before Cornelia stood up, brushing off her pants with her delicate hands. “You’ll be fine, Phil. Want a ride to the café? I’m headed that way for the shops.”

Phil sighed, nodding his head and returning her smile, albeit a little less enthusiastically. “That’d be great, Corn.”


	7. update woops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not a chapter just an update bc im not intelligent lmao

i like. really just messed up when i first posted this and forgot to put one of the parts of this fic in part three/ chapter 2. it's not essential information really so you'd be fine not rereading it but it makes the timing of the fic make a little more sense. i'll probably keep this update up until i post the next chapter, but i just wanted to let everyone know. sorry for the inconvenience i'm like very upset about it.


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